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PEINCIPIA  ETHICA 


Everything  is  what  it  is, 
and  not  another  thing” 

Bishop  BornuB 


PRINCIPIA  ETHICA 


BY 

GEORGE  EDWARD  MOORE 


CAMBRIDGE  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

CAMBRIDGE 


LONDON  • NEW  YORK  • MELBOURNE 


Published  by  the  Syndics  of  the  Cambridge  University  Press 
The  Pitt  Building,  Trumpington  Street,  Cambridge  CB2  IRP 
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296  Beaconsfield  Parade,  Middle  Park,  Melbourne  3206,  Australia 

ISBN  0 521  05753  1 hard  covers 
ISBN  0 521  09114  4 paperback 

First  edition  1903 
Reprinted  1922  1929  1948 
1951  1954  1956  1959 
First  paperback  edition  1959 
Reprinted  1960  1962  1965 
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Printed  in  Great  Britain 
at  the 

University  Printing  House,  Cambridge 
(Euan  Phillips,  University  Printer) 


lE^C.L. 

no 

/^957 

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DOCTORIBUS  AMICISQUE  CANTABRIGIENSIBUS 
DISOIPULUS  AMICUS  CANTABRIGIENSIS 
PRIMITIAS 
D.  D.  D. 

AUCTOR 


PREFACE. 


TT  appears  to  me  that  in  Ethics,  as  in  all  other  philosophical 

studies,  the  difficulties  and  disagreements,  of  which  its 
history  is  full,  are  mainly  due  to  a very  simple  cause:  namely 
to  the  attempt  to  answer  questions,  without  first  discovering 
precisely  what  question  it  is  which  you  desire  to  answer.  I do 
not  know  how  far  this  source  of  error  would  be  done  away,  if 
philosophers  would  try  to  discover  what  question  they  were 
asking,  before  they  set  about  to  answer  it;  for  the  work  of 
analysis  and  distinction  is  often  very  difficult : we  may  often 
fail  to  make  the  necessary  discovery,  even  though  we  make  a 
definite  attempt  to  do  so.  But  I am  inclined  to  think  that  in 
many  cases  a resolute  attempt  would  be  sufficient  to  ensure 
success ; so  that,  if  only  this  attempt  were  made,  many  of  the 
most  glaring  difficulties  and  disagreements  in  philosophy  would 
disappear.  At  all  events,  philosophers  seem,  in  general,  not  to 
make  the  attempt;  and,  whether  in  consequence  of  this  omission 
or  not,  they  are  constantly  endeavouring  to  prove  that  ‘Yes’  or 
‘No’  will  answer  questions,  to  which  neither  answer  is  correct, 
owing  to  the  fact  that  what  they  have  before  their  minds  is  not 
one  question,  but  several,  to  some  of  which  the  true  answer  is 
‘No,’  to  others  ‘Yes.’ 

I have  tried  in  this  book  to  distinguish  clearly  two  kinds  of 
question,  which  moral  philosophers  have  always  professed  to 


Vlll 


PREFACE 


answer,  but  which,  as  I have  tried  to  shew,  they  have  almost 
always  confused  both  with  one  another  and  with  other  questions. 
These  two  questions  may  be  expressed,  the  first  in  the  form : 
What  kind  of  things  ought  to  exist  for  their  own  sakes  ? the 
second  in  the  form : What  kind  of  actions  ought  we  to  perform  ? 
I have  tried  to  shew  exactly  what  it  is  that  we  ask  about  a 
thing,  when  we  ask  whether  it  ought  to  exist  for  its  own  sake, 
is  good  in  itself  or  has  intrinsic  value ; and  exactly  what  it  is 
that  we  ask  about  an  action,  when  we  ask  whether  we  ought  to 
do  it,  whether  it  is  a right  action  or  a duty. 

But  fi-om  a clear  insight  into  the  nature  of  these  two 
questions,  there  appears  to  me  to  follow  a second  most  impor- 
tant result:  namely,  what  is  the  nature  of  the  evidence,  by  which 
alone  any  ethical  jiroposibion  can  be  proved  or  disproved,  con- 
firmed or  rendered  doubtful.  Once  we  recognise  the  exact 
meaning  of  the  two  questions,  I think  it  also  becomes  plain 
exactly  what  kind  of  reasons  are  relevant  as  arguments  for  or 
against  any  particular  answer  to  them.  It  becomes  plain  that, 
for  answers  to  the  first  question,  no  relevant  evidence  whatever 
can  be  adduced  : from  no  other  truth,  except  themselves  alone, 
can  it  be  inferred  that  they  are  either  true  or  false.  We  can 
guard  against  error  only  by  taking  care,  that,  when  we  try  to 
answer  a question  of  this  kind,  we  have  before  our  minds  that 
question  only,  and  not  some  other  or  others ; but  that  there  is 
great  danger  of  such  errors  of  confusion  I have  tried  to  shew, 
and  also  what  are  the  chief  precautions  by  the  use  of  which  we 
may  guard  against  them.  As  for  the  second  question,  it  becomes 
equally  plain,  that  any  answ’er  to  it  is  capable  of  proof  or  dis- 
proof— that,  indeed,  so  many  different  considerations  are  relevant 
to  its  truth  or  falsehood,  as  to  make  the  attainment  of  proba- 
bility very  difficult,  and  the  attainment  of  certainty  impossible. 
Nevertheless  the  kind  of  evidence,  which  is  both  necessary  and 
alone  relevant  to  such  proof  and  disproof,  is  capable  of  exact 


PREFACE 


is 

definition.  Such  evidence  must  contain  propositions  of  two 
kinds  and  of  two  kinds  only  : it  must  consist,  in  the  first  place, 
of  truths  with  regard  to  the  results  of  the  action  in  question — 
of  causal  truths — but  it  must  also  contain  ethical  truths  of  our 
first  or  self-evident  class.  Many  truths  of  both  kinds  are 
necessary  to  the  proof  that  any  action  ought  to  be  done ; and 
any  other  kind  of  evidence  is  wholly  irrelevant.  It  follows  that, 
if  any  ethical  philosopher  offers  for  propositions  of  the  first  kind 
any  evidence  whatever,  or  if,  for  propositions  of  the  second  kind, 
he  either  fails  to  adduce  both  causal  and  ethical  truths,  or 
adduces  truths  that  are  neither,  his  reasoning  has  not  the  least 
tendency  to  establish  his  conclusions.  But  not  only  are  his 
conclusions  totally  devoid  of  weight : we  have,  moreover,  reason 
to  suspect  him  of  the  error  of  confusion ; since  the  offering  of 
irrelevant  evidence  generally  indicates  that  the  philosopher  who 
offers  it  has  had  before  his  mind,  not  the  question  which  he 
professes  to  answer,  but  some  other  entirely  different  one. 
Ethical  discussion,  hitherto,  has  perhaps  consisted  chiefly  in 
reasoning  of  this  totally  irrelevant  kind. 

One  main  object  of  this  book  may,  then,  be  expressed  by 
slightly  changing  one  of  Kant’s  famous  titles.  I have  endea- 
voured to  write  ‘Prolegomena  to  any  future  Ethics  that  can 
possibly  pretend  to  be  scientific.’  In  other  words,  I have 
endeavoured  to  discover  what  are  the  fundamental  principles  of 
ethical  reasoning;  and  the  establishment  of  these  principles, 
rather  than  of  any  conclusions  which  may  be  attained  by  their 
use,  may  be  regarded  as  my  main  object.  I have,  however,  also 
attempted,  in  Chapter  VI,  to  present  some  conclusions,  with 
regard  to  the  proper  answer  of  the  question  ‘What  is  good  in 
itself?’  which  are  very  different  from  any  which  have  commonly 
been  advocated  by  philosophers.  I have  tried  to  define  the 
classes  within  which  all  great  goods  and  evils  fall ; and  I have 
maintained  that  very  many  different  things  are  good  and  evil 


X 


PREFACE 


in  themselves,  and  that  neither  class  of  things  possesses  any 
other  property  which  is  both  common  to  all  its  members  and 
peculiar  to  them. 

In  order  to  express  the  fact  that  ethical  propositions  of  my 
first  class  are  incapable  of  proof  or  disproof,  I have  sometimes 
followed  Sidgwick’s  usage  in  calling  them  ‘ Intuitions.’  But  I 
beg  it  may  be  noticed  that  I am  not  an  ‘ Intuitionist,’  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  the  term.  Sidgwick  himself  seems  never  to 
have  been  clearly  aware  of  the  immense  importance  of  the 
difference  which  distinguishes  his  Intuitionism  from  the 
common  doctrine,  which  has  generally  been  called  by  that 
name.  The  Intuitionist  proper  is  distinguished  by  maintain- 
ing that  propositions  of  my  second  class — propositions  which 
assert  that  a certain  action  is  right  or  a duty — are  incapable  of 
proof  or  disproof  by  any  enquiry  into  the  results  of  such  actions. 
I,  on  the  contrary,  am  no  less  anxious  to  maintain  that  pro- 
positions of  this  kind  are  not  ‘Intuitions,’  than  to  maintain  that 
propositions  of  my  first  class  are  Intuitions. 

Again,  I would  wish  it  observed  that,  when  I call  such 
propositions  ‘ Intuitions,’  I mean  merely  to  assert  that  they  are 
incapable  of  proof ; I imply  nothing  whatever  as  to  the  manner 
or  origin  of  our  cognition  of  them.  Still  less  do  I imply  (as 
most  Intuitionists  have  done)  that  any  proposition  whatever  is 
true,  because  we  cognise  it  in  a particular  way  or  by  the  exercise 
of  any  particular  faculty  : I hold,  on  the  contrary,  that  in  every 
way  in  which  it  is  possible  to  cognise  a true  proposition,  it  is 
also  possible  to  cognise  a false  one. 

When  this  book  had  been  already  completed,  I found,  in 
Brentano’s  ‘ Origin  of  the  Knowledge  of  Right  and  Wrong V 

1 ‘ The  Origin  of  the  Knowledge  of  Kiglit  and  Wrong.’  By  Franz  Brentano. 
English  Translation  by  Cecil  Hague.  Constable,  1902.  — I have  written  a review 
of  this  book,  which  will,  I hope,  appear  in  the  International  Journal  of  Ethics 
for  October,  1903.  I may  refer  to  this  review  for  a fuller  account  of  my  reasons 
for  disagreeing  with  Brentano. 


PEEFACB 


2U 

opinions  far  more  closely  resembling  my  own,  than  those  of  any 
other  ethical  writer  with  whom  I am  acquainted.  Brentano 
appears  to  agree  with  me  completely  (1)  in  regarding  all  ethical 
propositions  as  defined  by  the  fact  that  they  predicate  a single 
unique  objective  concept;  (2)  in  dividing  such  propositions 
sharply  into  the  same  two  kinds ; (3)  in  holding  that  the  first 
kind  are  incapable  of  proof ; and  (4)  with  regard  to  the  kind  of 
evidence  which  is  necessary  and  relevant  to  the  proof  of  the 
second  kind.  But  he  regards  the  fundamental  ethical  concept 
as  being,  not  the  simple  one  which  I denote  by  ‘ good,’  but  the 
complex  one  which  I have  taken  to  define  ‘ beautiful  ’ ; and  he 
does  not  recognise,  but  even  denies  by  implication,  the  principle 
which  I have  called  the  'principle  of  organic  unities.  In  conse- 
quence of  these  two  differences,  his  conclusions  as  to  what 
things  are  good  in  themselves,  also  differ  very  materially  from 
mine.  He  agrees,  however,  that  there  are  many  different  goods, 
and  that  the  love  of  good  and  beautiful  objects  constitutes  an 
important  class  among  them. 

I wish  to  refer  to  one  oversight,  of  which  I became  aware 
only  when  it  was  too  late  to  correct  it,  and  which  may,  I am 
afraid,  cause  unnecessary  trouble  to  some  readers.  I have 
omitted  to  discuss  directly  the  mutual  relations  of  the  several 
different  notions,  which  are  all  expressed  by  the  word  ‘ end.’ 
The  consequences  of  this  omission  may  perhaps  be  partially 
avoided  by  a reference  to  my  article  on  ‘Teleology’  in  Baldwin’s 
Dictionary  of  Philosophy  and  Psychology. 

If  I were  to  rewrite  my  work  now,  I should  make  a very 
different,  and  I believe  that  I could  make  a much  better  book. 
But  it  may  be  doubted  whether,  in  attempting  to  satisfy  myself, 
I might  not  merely  render  more  obscure  the  ideas  which  I am 
most  anxious  to  convey,  without  a corresponding  gain  in  com- 
pleteness and  accuracy.  However  that  may  be,  my  belief  that 


PREFACE 


xii 

to  publish  the  book  as  it  stands  was  probably  the  best  thing  I 
could  do,  does  not  prevent  me  from  being  painfully  aware  that 
it  is  full  of  defects. 


Trinity  College,  Cambridge. 
August,  1903. 


[This  book  is  now  reprinted  without  any  alteration  whatever, 
except  that  a few  misprints  and  grammatical  mistakes  have  been 
corrected.  It  is  reprinted,  because  I am  still  in  agreement  with 
its  main  tendency  and  conclusions;  and  it  is  reprinted  without 
alteration,  because  I found  that,  if  I were  to  begin  correcting 
what  in  it  seemed  to  me  to  need  correction,  I could  not  stop 
short  of  rewriting  the  whole  book. 

G.  E.  M.] 


Cambridge,  1922. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS, 

A 

SECTION.  PAGE 

1.  In  order  to  define  Ethics,  we  must  discover  what  is  both  common 

and  peculiar  to  all  undoubted  ethical  judgments ; . . . 1 

2.  but  this  is  not  that  they  are  concerned  with  human  conduct, 

but  that  they  are  concerned  with  a certain  predicate  ‘ good,’ 
and  its  converse  ‘bad,’  which  may  be  applied  both  to  conduct 
and  to  other  things.  ........  1 

3.  The  subjects  of  the  judgments  of  a scientific  Ethics  are  not,  like 

those  of  some  studies,  ‘ particular  things  ’ ; . , . . 3 

4.  but  it  includes  all  universal  judgments  which  assert  the  relation 

of  ‘goodness’  to  any  subject,  and  hence  includes  Casuistry  . S 

B. 

f"  5.  It  must,  however,  enquire  not  only  what  things  are  universally 
related  to  goodness,  but  also,  what  this  predicate,  to  which 


they  are  related,  is ; . . . . . . . . 6 

6.  and  the  answer  to  this  question  is  that  it  is  indefinable  . . 6 

7.  or  simple ; for  if  by  definition  be  meant  the  analysis  of  an  object 

of  thought,  only  complex  objects  can  be  defined ; . . . 7 

8.  and  of  the  three  senses  in  which  ‘ definition  ’ can  be  used,  this 

is  the  most  important.  ........  8 

9.  What  is  thus  indefinable  is  not  ‘ the  good,’  or  the  whole  of  that 

which  always  possesses  the  predicate  ‘good,’  but  this  predicate 
itself.  ...........  8 

10.  ‘Good,’  then,  denotes  one  unique  simple  object  of  thought  among 

innumerable  others;  but  this  object  has  very  commonly  been 
identified  with  some  other — a fallacy  which  may  be  called 
‘ the  naturalistic  fallacy  ’ 9 


XIV 


CONTENTS 


SECT.  PAGE 

11.  and  which  reduces  what  is  used  as  a fundamental  principle  of 

Ethics  either  to  a tautology  or  to  a statement  about  the 
meaning  of  a word. 10 

12.  The  nature  of  this  fallacy  is  easily  recognised  ; . . . .12 


13.  and  if  it  were  avoided,  it  would  be  plain  that  the  only  alter- 

natives to  the  admission  that  ‘good’’  is  indefinable,  are  either 
that  it  is  complex  or  that  there  is  no  notion  at  all  peculiar 
to  Ethics — alternatives  which  can  only  be  refuted  by  an 
appeal  to  inspection,  but  which  can  he  so  refuted.  . . 15 

14.  The  ‘naturalistic  fallacy’  illustrated  by  Bentham;  and  the  im- 

portance of  avoiding  it  pointed  out. 17 

C. 

15.  The  relations  which  ethical  judgments  assert  to  hold  universally 

between  ‘ goodness  ’ and  other  things  are  of  two  kinds : a thing 
may  be  asserted  either  to  he  good  itself  or  to  be  causally 
related  to  something  else  which  is  itself  good — to  be  ‘good  as 


£k_m^^ns.’  . 21 

16.  Our  investigations  of  the  latter  kind  of  relation  cannot  hope  to 
establish  more  than  that  a certain  kind  of  action  •will  generally 
be  followed  by  the  best  possible  results  ; ....  22 


17.  but  a relation  of  the  former  kind,  if  true  at  all,  will  be  true  of 

all  cases.  All  ordinary  ethical  judgments  assert  causal  rela- 
tions, but  they  are  commonly  treated  as  if  they  did  not, 
because  the  two  kinds  of  relation  are  not  distinguished.  . 23 

D. 

18.  The  investigation  of  intrinsic  values  is  complicated  by  the  fact 

that  the  value  of  a whole  may  be  different  from  the  sum  of 


the  values  of  its  parts, 27 

19.  in  which  case  the  part  has  to  the  whole  a relation,  which  exhibits 

an  equally  important  difference  from  and  resemblance  to  that 
of  means  to  end 29 

20.  The  term  ‘ organic  whole  ’ might  well  be  used  to  denote  that 

a whole  has  this  property,  since,  of  the  two  other  properties 
which  it  is  commonly  used  to  imply, 30 

21.  one,  that  of  reciprocal  causal  dependence  between  parts,  has  no 

necessary  relation  to  this  one, 31 

22.  and  the  other,  upon  which  most  stress  has  been  laid,  can  be 

true  of  no  whole  whatsoever,  being  a self-contradictory  con- 
ception due  to  confusion 33 

23.  Summary  of  chapter 36 


CONTENTS 


XV 


CHAPTER  II. 

NATUKALISTIC  ETHICS. 

SECT.  PAGE 

24.  This  and  the  two  following  chapters  will  consider  certain  proposed 

answers  to  the  second  of  ethical  questions  : What  is  good  in 
itselfl  These  proposed  answers  are  characterised  by  the  facts 

(1)  that  they  declare  some  one  kind  of  thing  to  be  alone  good 
in  itself ; and  (2)  that  they  do  so,  because  they  suppose  this 

owe  thing  to  define  the  meaning  of ‘good.’  ....  37 

25.  Such  theories  may  be  divided  into  two  groups  (1)  Metaphysical, 

(2)  Naturalistic  : and  the  second  group  may  be  subdivided 

into  two  others,  (a)  theories  which  declare  some  natural  object, 
other  than  pleasure,  to  be  sole  good,  (6)  Hedonism.  The  pre- 
sent chapter  will  deal  with  (a) 38 

26.  Definition  of  what  is  meant  by  ‘ Naturalism.’  ....  39 

27.  The  common  argument  that  things  are  good,  because  they  are 

‘ natural,’  may  involve  either  (1)  the  false  proposition  that 
the  ‘ normal,’  as  such,  is  good  ; 41 

28.  or  (2)  the  false  proposition  that  the  ‘ necessary,’  as  such,  is 

good 44 

29.  But  a systematised  appeal  to  Nature  is  now  most  prevalent  in 

connection  with  the  term  ‘ Evolution.’  An  examination  of 
Mr  Herbert  Spencer’s  Ethics  will  illustrate  this  form  of 


Naturalism 45 

30.  Darwin’s  scientific  theory  of  ‘ natural  selection,’  which  has 

mainly  caused  the  modem  vogue  of  the  term  ‘Evolution,’ 
must  be  carefully  distinguished  from  certain  ideas  which 
are  commonly  associated  with  the  latter  term.  . . 47 

31.  Mr  Spencer’s  connection  of  Evolution  with  Ethics  seems  to 

shew  the  influence  of  the  naturalistic  fallacy  ; . . .48 

32.  but  Mr  Spencer  is  vague  as  to  the  ethical  relations  of  ‘pleasure’ 

and  ‘evolution,’  and  his  Naturalism  may  be  mainly  Natural- 
istic Hedonism.  .........  49 

33.  A discussion  of  the  third  chapter  of  the  Data  of  Ethics  serves 

to  Illustrate  these  two  points  and  to  shew  that  Mr  Spencer 
is  in  utter  confusion  with  regard  to  the  fundamental  principles 
of  Ethics 51 


34.  Three  possible  views  as  to  the  relation  of  Evolution  to  Ethics 
are  distinguished  from  the  naturalistic  view  to  which  it  is 
proposed  to  confine  the  name  ‘ Evolutionistic  Ethics.’  On 
any  of  these  three  views  the  relation  would  be  unimportant, 
and  the  ‘Evolutionistic’  view,  which  makes  it  important. 


involves  a double  fallacy.  .......  54 

35.  Summary  of  chapter. 58 


XVI 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  III. 

HEDONISM. 


SECT.  page 

36.  The  prevalence  of  Hedonism  is  mainly  due  to  the  naturalistic 

fallacy .59 


37.  Hedonism  may  be  defined  as  the  doctrine  that  ‘ Pleasure  is  the 

sole  good’ : this  doctrine  has  always  been  held  by  Hedonists 
and  used  by  them  as  a fundamental  ethical  principle,  al- 
though it  has  commonly  been  confused  with  others.  . 61 

38.  The  method  pursued  in  this  chapter  will  consist  in  exposing  the 

reasons  commonly  oSered  for  the  truth  of  Hedonism  and  in 
bringing  out  the  reasons,  which  suffice  to  shew  it  untrue,  by 
a criticism  of  J.  S.  Mill  & H.  Sidgwick.  ....  63 

A. 

39.  Mill  declares  that  ‘ Happiness  is  the  only  thing  desirable  as  an 

end,’  and  insists  that  ‘ Questions  of  ultimate  ends  are  not 
amenable  to  direct  proof  ’ ; 64 

40.  yet  he  gives  a proof  of  the  first  proposition,  which  consists  in 

(1)  the  fallacious  confusion  of  ‘desirable’  with  ‘desired,’  . G6 

41.  (2)  an  attempt  to  shew  that  nothing  but  pleasure  is  desired.  . 67 

42.  The  theory  that  nothing  but  pleasure  is  desired  seems  largely 

due  to  a confusion  between  the  cause  and  the  object  of 
desire  : pleasure  is  certainly  not  the  sole  object  of  desire,  and, 
even  if  it  is  always  among  the  causes  of  desire,  that  fact 
would  not  tempt  anyone  to  think  it  a good.  ...  68 

43.  Mill  attempts  to  reconcile  his  doctrine  that  pleasure  is  the  sole 

object  of  desire  with  his  admission  that  other  things  are 
desired,  by  the  absurd  declaration  that  what  is  a means  to 
happiness  is  ‘ a part  ’ of  happiness 71 

44.  Summary  of  Mill’s  argument  and  of  my  criticism.  ...  72 

B. 

45.  We  must  now  proceed  to  consider  the  principle  of  Hedonism  as 

an  ‘ Intuition,’  as  which  it  has  been  clearly  recognised  by 
Prof.  Sidgwick  alone.  That  it  should  be  thus  incapable  of 
yjroo/ is  not,  in  itself,  any  reason  for  dissatisfaction.  . . 74 

46.  In  thus  beginning  to  consider  what  things  are  good  in  them- 

selves, we  leave  the  refutation  of  Naturalism  behind,  and 
enter  on  the  second  division  of  ethical  questions.  . . .76 


CONTENTS 


XVll 


SECT.  PAGB 

47.  Mill’s  doctrine  that  some  pleasures  are  superior  ‘in  quality’  to 

others  implies  both  (1)  that  judgments  of  ends  must  he 
‘intuitions’ 77 

48.  and  (2)  that  pleasure  is  not  the  sole  good.  .....  79 

49.  Prof.  Sidgwick  has  avoided  these  confusions  made  by  Mill : in 

considering  his  arguments  we  shall,  therefore,  merely  con- 
sider the  question  ‘Is  pleasure  the  sole  good?’  ...  81 


50.  Prof.  Sidgwick  first  tries  to  shew  that  nothing  outside  of 

Human  Existence  can  be  good.  Reasons  are  given  for 
doubting  this.  .........  81 

51.  He  then  goes  on  to  the  far  more  important  proposition  that  no 

part  of  Human  Existence,  except  pleasure,  is  desirable.  . 85 

52.  But  ‘pleasure  must  be  distinguished  from  consciousness  of 

pleasure,  and  (1)  it  is  plain  that,  when  so  distinguished, 
pleasure  is  not  the  sole  good;  ......  87 

53.  and  (2)  it  may  be  made  equally  plain  that  consciousness  of 

pleasure  is  not  the  sole  good,  if  we  are  equally  careful  to  dis- 
tinguish it  from  its  usual  accompaniments.  ....  90 

54.  Of  Prof.  Sidgwick’s  two  arguments  for  the  contrary  view,  the 

second  is  equally  compatible  with  the  supposition  that 
pleasure  is  a mere  criterion  of  what  is  right ; . . .91 

55.  and  in  his  first,  the  appeal  to  reflective  intuition,  he  fails  to 

put  the  question  clearly  (1)  in  that  he  does  not  recognise  the 
principle  of  organic  unities ; . . . . . . .92 

56.  and  (2)  in  that  he  fails  to  emphasize  that  the  agreement,  which 

he  has  tried  to  shew,  between  hedonistic  judgments  and 
those  of  Common  Sense,  only  holds  of  judgments  of  means  : 
hedonistic  judgments  of  ends  are  flagrantly  paradoxical.  . 94 

57.  I conclude,  then,  that  a reflective  intuition,  if  proper  precau- 

tions are  taken,  will  agree  with  Common  Sense  that  it  is 
absurd  to  regard  mere  consciousness  of  pleasure  as  the  sole 
good.  ...  . ....  95 

C. 

58.  It  remains  to  consider  Egoism  and  Utilitarianism  It  is  im- 

portant to  distinguish  the  former,  as  the  doctrine  that  ‘ my 
own  pleasure  is  sole  good,’  from  the  doctrine,  opposed  to 
Altruism,  that  to  pursue  my  own  pleasure  exclusively  is 
right  as  a means.  . . .......  96 

59.  Egoism  proper  is  utterly  untenable,  being  self-contradictory : 

it  fails  to  perceive  that  when  I declare  a thing  to  be  my  own 
good,  I must  be  declaring  it  to  be  good  absolutely  or  else  not 
good  at  all 97 


CONTENTS 


xviii 

SECT.  PAGE 

60.  This  confusion  is  further  brought  out  by  an  examination  of 

Prof.  Sidgwick’s  contrary  view ; . . . . . .99 

61.  and  it  is  shewn  that,  in  consequence  of  this  confusion,  his 

representation  of  ‘the  relation  of  Rational  Egoism  to  Rational 
Benevolence’  as  ‘the  profoundest  problem  of  Ethics,’  and  his 
view  that  a certain  hypothesis  is  required  to  ‘make  Ethics 
rational,’  are  grossly  erroneous.  . . . . . .102 

62.  The  same  confusion  is  involved  in  the  attempt  to  infer 

Utilitarianism  from  Psychological  Hedonism,  as  commonly 
held,  e.g.  by  Mill . . .104 

63.  Egoism  proper  seems  also  to  owe  its  plausibility  to  its  confusion 

with  Egoism,  as  a doctrine  of  means.  ...  . 105 

64.  Certain  ambiguities  in  the  conception  of  Utilitarianism  are 

noticed;  and  it  is  pointed  out  (1)  that,  as  a doctrine  of  the 
end  to  be  pursued,  it  is  finally  refuted  by  the  refutation  of 
Hedonism,  and  (2)  that,  while  the  arguments  most  commonly 
urged  in  its  favour  could,  at  most,  only  shew  it  to  offer  a 
correct  criterion  of  right  action,  they  are  quite  insufficient 


even  for  this  purpose.  ........  105 

65.  Summary  of  chapter. 108 


CHAPTER  IV. 

METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS. 

A. 

66.  The  term  ‘metaphysical’  is  defined  as  having  reference 

primarily  to  any  object  of  knowledge  which  is  not  a part  of 
Nature — does  not  exist  in  time,  as  an  object  of  perception ; 
but  since  metaphysicians,  not  content  with  pointing  out  the 
truth  about  such  entities,  have  always  supposed  that  what 
does  not  exist  in  Nature,  must,  at  least,  exist,  the  term  also 
has  reference  to  a supposed  ‘ supersensible  reality  ’ ; . .110 

67.  and  by  ‘metaphysical  Ethics’  I mean  those  systems  which 

maintain  or  imply  that  the  answer  to  the  question  ‘What  is 
good  V logically  defends  upon  the  answer  to  the  question 
‘What  is  the  nature  of  supersensible  reality?.’  All  such 
systems  obviously  involve  the  same  fallacy — the  ‘ naturalistic 
fallacy’ — by  the  use  of  which  Naturalism  was  also  defined.  . 113 

68.  Metaphysics,  as  dealing  with  a ‘supersensible  reality,’  may  have 

a bearing  upon  practical  Ethics  (1)  if  its  supersensible 
reality  is  conceived  as  something  future,  which  our  actions 


CONTENTS 


XIX 


SECT.  PAGE 

can  affect;  and  (2)  since  it  will  prove  that  every  proposition 
of  practical  Ethics  is  false,  if  it  can  shew  that  an  eternal 
reality  is  either  the  only  real  thing  or  the  only  good  thing. 

Most  metaphysical  writers,  believing  in  a reality  of  the 
latter  kind,  do  thus  imply  the  complete  falsehood  of  every 
practical  proposition,  although  they  fail  to  see  that  their 
Metaphysics  thus  contradicts  their  Ethics.  . . .115 

B. 

69.  But  the  theory,  by  which  I have  defined  Metaphysical  Ethics, 

is  not  that  Metaphysics  has  a logical  bearing  upon  the  question 
involved  in  practical  Ethics  ‘What  efiects  will  my  action 
produce  but  that  it  has  such  a bearing  upon  the . funda- 
mental ethical  question  ‘What  is  good  in  itself?.’  This 
theory  has  been  refuted  by  the  proof,  in  Chap.  I,  that  the 
naturalistic  fallacy  is  a fallacy : it  only  remains  to  discuss 
certain  confusions  which  seem  to  have  lent  it  plausibility.  . 118 

70.  One  such  source  of  confusion  seems  to  lie  in  the  failure  to  dis- 

tinguish between  the  proposition  ‘This  is  good,’  when  it 
means  ‘This  coasting  thing  is  good,’  and  the  same  proposition, 
when  it  means  ‘The  existence  of  this  kind  of  thing  would  be 
good’; 118 

71.  and  another  seems  to  lie  in  the  failure  to  distinguish  between 

that  which  suggests  a truth,  or  is  a cause  of  our  knowing  it, 
and  that  upon  which  it  logically  depends,  or  which  is  a reason 
for  believing  it;  in  the  former  sense  fiction  has  a more 
important  bearing  upon  Ethics  than  Metaphysics  can  have.  121 

C. 


72.  But  a more  important  source  of  confusion  seems  to  lie  in  the 

supposition  that  ‘to  be  good’  is  identical  with  the  possession 
of  some  supersensible  property,  which  is  also  involved  in 
the  definition  of  ‘reality.’ 122 

73.  One  cause  of  this  supposition  seems  to  be  the  logical  prejudice 

that  aU  propositions  are  of  the  most  familiar  type — that  in 
which  subject  and  predicate  are  both  existents.  . . .123 

74.  But  ethical  propositions  cannot  be  reduced  to  this  type:  in 

particular,  they  are  obviously  to  be  distinguished  . . 125 

75.  (1)  from  Natural  Laws;  with  which  one  of  Kant’s  most  famous 

doctrines  confuses  them, . 126 

73.  and  (21  from  Commands ; with  which  they  are  confused  both  by 

Kant  and  by  others 127 


XX 


CONTENTS 


D. 

SECT. 

77.  This  latter  confusion  is  one  of  the  sources  of  the  prevalent 

modern  doctrine  that  ‘being  good’  is  identical  with  ‘being 
willed’;  but  the  prevalence  of  this  doctrine  seems  to  be 
chiefly  due  to  other  causes.  I shall  try  to  shew  with  regard 
to  it  (1)  what  are  the  chief  errors  which  seem  to  have  led  to 
its  adoption  ; and  (2)  that,  apart  from  it,  the  Metaphysics  of 
Volition  can  hardly  have  the  smallest  logical  bearing  upon 
Ethics.  ........... 

78.  (1)  It  has  been  commonly  held,  since  Kant,  that  ‘goodness’  has 

the  same  relation  to  Will  or  Feeling,  which  ‘truth’  or 
‘reality’  has  to  Cognition:  that  the  proper  method  for 
Ethics  is  to  discover  what  is  implied  in  Will  or  Feeling,  just 
as,  according  to  Kant,  the  proper  method  for  Metaphysics 
was  to  discover  what  is  implied  in  Cognition. 

79.  The  actual  relations  between  ‘goodness’  and  Will  or  Feeling, 

from  which  this  false  doctrine  is  inferred,  seem  to  be  mainly 
(a)  the  causal  relation  consisting  in  the  fact  that  it  is  only 
by  reflection  upon  the  experiences  of  Will  and  Feeling  that 
we  become  aware  of  ethical  distinctions  ; (b)  the  facts  that  a 
cognition  of  goodness  is  perhaps  always  included  in  certain 
kinds  of  Willing  and  Feeling,  and  is  accompanied 

by  them : 

80.  but  from  neither  of  these  psychological  facts  does  it  follow 

that  ‘to  be  good’  is  identical  with  being  wiUed  or  felt  in  a 
certain  way . the  supposition  that  it  does  follow  is  an 
instance  of  the  fundamental  contradiction  of  modei-n  Episte- 
mology— the  contradiction  involved  in  both  distinguishing 
and  identifying  the  object  and  the  act  of  Thought,  ‘truth’ 
itself  and  its  supposed  criterion'.  ..... 

81.  and,  once  this  analogy  between  Volition  and  Cognition  is 

accepted,  the  view  that  ethical  propositions  have  an  essential 
reference  to  Will  or  Feeling,  is  strengthened  by  another 
error  with  regard  to  the  nature  of  Cognition — the  error  of 
supposing  that  ‘perception’  denotes  merely  a certain  way  of 
cognising  an  object,  whereas  it  actually  includes  the  assertion 
that  the  object  is  also  true.  ....... 

82.  The  argument  of  the  last  three  §§  is  recapitulated ; and  it  is 

pointed  out  (1)  that  Volition  and  Feeling  are  not  analogous 
to  Cognition,  (2)  that,  even  if  they  were,  still  ‘to  be  good’ 
could  not  mean  ‘to  be  willed  or  felt  in  a certain  way.’  . 

83.  (2)  If  ‘being  good’  and  ‘being  willed’  are  not  identical.,  then 

the  latter  could  only  be  a criterion  of  the  former;  and,  in 


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130 


131 


133 


135 


CONTENTS 


XXI 


SECT.  PAGE 

order  to  shew  that  it  was  so,  we  should  have  to  establish 
indeipendenily  that  many  things  were  good — that  is  to  say, 
we  should  have  to  establish  most  of  our  ethical  conclusions, 
before  the  Metaphysics  of  Volition  could  possibly  give  us  the 
smallest  assistance.  ........  137 

84.  The  fact  that  the  metaphysical  writers  who,  like  Green,  attempt 

to  base  Ethics  on  Volition,  do  not  even  attempt  this  in- 
dependent investigation,  shews  that  they  start  from  the 
false  assumption  that  goodness  is  identical  with  being  willed, 
and  hence  that  their  ethical  reasonings  have  no  value  what- 
soever  138 

85.  Summary  of  chapter. 139 


CHAPTER  V. 

ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT. 


88.  The  question  to  be  discussed  in  this  chapter  must  be  clearly 
distinguished  from  the  two  questions  hitherto  discussed, 
namely  (1)  What  is  the  nature  of  the  proposition:  ‘This  is 
good  in  itself’?  .........  142 

87.  and  (2)  What  things  are  good  in  themselves  ? to  which  we  gave 
one  answer  in  deciding  that  pleasure  was  not  the  only  thing 
good  in  itself. 144 


88.  In  this  chapter  we  shall  deal  with  the  third  object  of  ethical 

enquiry:  namely  answers  to  the  question  ‘What  conduct  is 
a means  to  good  results  ?’  or  ‘What  ought  we  to  do  ?’  This 
is  the  question  of  Practical  Ethics,  and  its  answer  involves 
an  assertion  of  causal  connection.  .....  146 

89.  It  is  shewn  that  the  assertions  ‘This  action  is  right’  or  ‘is  my 

duty  ’ are  equivalent  to  the  assertion  that  the  total  results  of 
the  action  in  question  will  be  the  best  possible ; . . . 146 

90.  and  the  rest  of  the  chapter  will  deal  with  certain  conclusions, 

upon  which  light  is  thrown  by  this  fact.  Of  which  the  first 
is  (1)  that  Intuitionism  is  mistaken;  since  no  proposition 
with  regard  to  duty  can  be  self-evident.  . . . .148 

91.  (2)  It  is  plain  that  we  cannot  hope  to  prove  which  among  all 

the  actions,  which  it  is  possible  for  us  to  perform  on  every 
occasion,  will  produce  the  best  total  results : to  discover 
what  is  our  ‘duty,’  in  this  strict  sense,  is  impossible.  It 
may,  however,  be  possible  to  shew  which  among  the  actions, 
which  we  are  likelij  to  perform,  will  produce  the  best  results. 


149 


xxii  CONTENTS 

SECT. 

92.  The  distinction  made  in  the  last  § is  further  explained ; and  it 

is  insisted  that  all  that  Ethics  has  done  or  can  do,  is,  not  to 
determine  absolute  duties,  but  to  point  out  which,  among  a 
few  of  the  alternatives,  possible  under  certain  circumstances, 
will  have  the  better  results 

93.  (3)  Even  this  latter  task  is  immensely  difficult,  and  no 

adequate  proof  that  the  total  results  of  one  action  are 
superior  to  those  of  another,  has  ever  been  given.  For  (a)  we 
can  only  calculate  actual  results  within  a comparatively 
near  future : we  must,  therefore,  assume  that  no  results  of 
the  same  action  in  the  infinite  future  beyond,  will  reverse 
the  balance — an  assumption  which  perhaps  can  be,  but 
certainly  has  not  been,  justified ; ...... 

94.  and  (6)  even  to  decide  that,  of  any  two  actions,  one  has  a better 

total  result  than  the  other  in  the  immediate  future,  is  very 
difficult ; and  it  is  very  improbable,  and  quite  impossible  to 
prove,  that  any  single  action  is  in  all  cases  better  as  means 
than  its  probable  alternative.  Rules  of  duty,  even  in  this 
restricted  sense,  can  only,  at  most,  be  general  truths.  . 

95.  But  (c)  most  of  the  actions,  most  universally  approved  by 

Common  Sense,  may  perhaps  be  shewn  to  be  generally 
better  as  means  than  any  probable  alternative,  on  the  follow- 
ing principles.  (1)  With  regard  to  some  rules  it  may  be 
shewn  that  their  general  observance  would  be  useful  in  any 
state  of  society,  whei'e  the  instincts  to  preserve  and  propa- 
gate life  and  to  possess  property  were  as  strong  as  they  seem 
always  to  be ; and  this  utility  may  be  shewn,  independently 
of  a right  view  as  to  what  is  good  in  itself,  since  the  observ- 
ance is  a means  to  things  which  are  a necessary  condition 
for  the  attainment  of  any  great  goods  in  considerable 
quantities  

96.  (2)  Other  rules  are  such  that  their  general  observance  can  only 

be  shewn  to  be  useful,  as  means  to  the  preservation  of 
society,  under  more  or  less  temporary  conditions ; if  any  of 
these  are  to  be  proved  useful  in  all  societies,  this  can  only 
be  done  by  shewing  their  causal  relation  to  things  good  or 
evil  in  themselves,  which  are  not  generally  recognised  to 
be  such.  

97.  It  is  plain  that  rules  of  class  (1)  may  also  be  justified  by  the 

existence  of  such  temporary  conditions  as  justify  those  of 
class  (2) ; and  among  such  temporary  conditions  must  be 
reckoned  the  so-called  sanctions.  

98.  In  this  way,  then,  it  may  be  possible  to  prove  the  general 

utility,  for  the  present,  of  those  actions,  which  in  our  society 


PAGE 


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154 


155 


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159 


CONTENTS 


XXlll 


seOT. 


99. 


100. 


101. 


102. 


103. 


PAGE 

are  both  generally  recognised  as  duties  and  generally  prac- 
tised ; but  it  seems  very  doubtful  whether  a conclusive  case 
can  be  established  for  any  proposed  change  in  social  custom, 
without  an  independent  investigation  of  what  things  are 

good  or  bad  in  themselves 159 

And  (d)  if  we  consider  the  distinct  question  of  how  a single 
individual  should  decide  to  act  (a)  in  cases  where  the  general 
utility  of  the  action  in  question  is  certain,  (j8)  in  other  cases : 
there  seems  reason  for  thinking  that,  with  regard  to  (a), 
where  the  generally  useful  rule  is  also  generally  observed, 
he  should  always  conform  to  it;  but  these  reasons  are  not 
conclusive,  if  either  the  general  observance  or  the  general 
utility  is  wanting : ........  162 

and  that  (;8)  in  all  other  cases,  rules  of  action  should  not  be 
followed  at  all,  but  the  individual  should  consider  what 
positive  goods,  Ae,  in  his  particular  circumstances,  seems 
likely  to  be  able  to  effect,  and  what  evils  to  avoid.  . . 164 

(4)  It  follows  further  that  the  distinction  denoted  by  the 

terms  ‘duty’  and  ‘expediency’  is  not  primarily  ethical : 
when  we  ask  ‘Is  this  really  expedient?’  we  are  asking  pre- 
cisely the  same  question  as  when  we  ask  ‘Is  this  my  duty  ?,’ 
viz.  ‘Is  this  a means  to  the  best  possible?.’  ‘Duties’  are 
mainly  distinguished  by  the  non-ethical  marks  (1)  that  many 
people  are  often  tempted  to  avoid  them,  (2)  that  their  most 
prominent  effects  are  on  others  than  the  agent,  (3)  that  they 
excite  the  moral  sentiments : so  far  as  they  are  distinguished 
by  an  ethical  peculiarity,  this  is  not  that  they  are  peculiarly 
useful  to  perform,  but  that  they  are  peculiarly  useful  to 
sanction. 167 

The  distinction  between  ‘duty’  and  ‘interest’  is  also,  in  the 
main,  the  same  non-ethical  distinction ; but  the  term 
‘interested’  does  also  refer  to  a distinct  ethical  predicate — 
that  an  action  is  to  ‘my  interest’  asserts  only  that  it  will 
have  the  best  possible  effects  of  one  particular  kind,  not  that 
its  total  effects  will  be  the  best  possible.  . . . .170 

(5) .  We  may  further  see  that  ‘virtues’  are  not  to  be  defined 
as  dispositions  that  are  good  in  themselves : they  are  not 
necessarily  more  than  dispositions  to  perform  actions  gener- 
ally good  as  means,  and  of  these,  for  the  most  part,  only 
those  classed  as  ‘duties’  in  accordance  with  section  (4). 

It  follows  that  to  decide  whether  a disposition  is  or  is  not 
‘ virtuous  ’ involves  the  difficult  causal  investigation  dis- 
cussed in  section  (3)  \ and  that  what  is  a virtue  in  one  state 

of  society  may  not  be  so  in  another 171 


XXIV 


CONTENTS 


SECT.  PAOB 

104.  It  follows  also  that  we  have  no  reason  to  presume,  as  has 

commonly  been  done,  that  the  exercise  of  virtue  in  the  per- 
formance of  ‘duties’  is  ever  good  in  itself — far  less,  that  it 
IS  the  sole  good;  173 

105.  and,  if  we  consider  the  intrinsic  value  of  such  exercise,  it  will 

appear  (1)  that,  in  most  cases,  it  has  no  value,  and  (2)  that 
even  the  cases,  where  it  has  some  value,  are  far  from  con- 
stituting the  sole  good.  The  truth  of  the  latter  proposition 
is  generally  inconsistently  implied,  even  by  those  who 
deny  it; 174 

106.  but  in  order  fairly  to  decide  upon  the  intrinsic  value  of  virtue, 

we  must  distinguish  three  different  kinds  of  disposition,  each 
of  which  IS  commonly  so  called  and  has  been  maintained  to 
be  the  only  kind  deserving  the  name.  Thus  (a)  the  mere 
unconscious  ‘habit’  of  performing  duties,  which  is  the  com- 
monest type,  has  no  intrinsic  value  whatsoever;  Christian 
moralists  are  right  in  implying  that  mere  ‘ external  rightness’ 
has  no  intrinsic  value,  though  they  are  wrong  in  saying  that 
it  is  therefore  not  ‘virtuous,’  since  this  implies  that  it  has 
no  value  even  as  a means:  . . . . . . .175 

107.  (b)  where  virtue  consists  in  a disposition  to  have,  and  be 

moved  by,  a sentiment  of  love  towards  really  good  con- 
sequences of  an  action  and  of  hatred  towards  really  evil 
ones,  it  has  some  intrinsic  value,  but  its  value  may  vary 
greatly  in  degree  : 177 

108.  finally  (c)  where  virtue  consists  in  ‘conscientiousness,’  i.e.  the 

disposition  not  to  act,  in  certain  cases,  until  we  believe  and 
feel  that  our  action  is  right,  it  seems  to  have  some  intrinsic 
value  ; the  value  of  this  feeling  has  been  peculiarly  empha- 
sized by  Christian  Ethics,  but  it  certainly  is  not,  as  Kant 
would  lead  us  to  think,  either  the  sole  thing  of  value,  or 


always  good  even  as  a means 178 

109.  Summary  of  chapter. . .180 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  IDEAL. 

110.  By  an  ‘ideal’  state  of  things  may  be  meant  either  (1)  the 
Summum  Bonum  or  absolutely  best,  or  (2)  the  best  which 
the  laws  of  nature  allow  to  exist  in  this  world,  or  (3)  any- 
thing greatly  good  in  itself : this  chapter  will  be  principally 
occupied  with  what  is  ideal  in  sense  (3) — with  answering  the 
fundamental  question  of  Ethics ; 183 


CONTENTS  y 


XXV 


SECT. 


FAQE 


111.  but  a correct  answer  to  this  question  is  an  es.sential  step 
towards  a correct  view  as  to  what  is  ‘ideal’  in  senses  (1) 


112.  In  order  to  obtain  a correct  answer  to  the  question  ‘ What  is 

good  in  itself?’  we  must  consider  what  value  things  would 
have  if  they  existed  absolutely  by  themselves  ; . . .187 

113.  and,  if  we  use  this  method,  it  is  obvious  that  personal  affection 

and  aesthetic  enjoyments  include  by  far  the  greatest  goods 
with  which  we  are  acquainted.  . . . . . .188 

114.  If  we  begin  by  considering  I.  Aesthetic  Enjoyments,  it  is  plain 

(1)  that  there  is  always  essential  to  these  some  one  of  a great 
variety  of  different  emotions,  though  these  emotions  may 
have  little  value  hy  themselves  : 189 

115.  and  (2)  that  a cognition  of  really  beautiful  qualities  is  equally 

essential,  and  has  equally  little  value  by  itself.  . . . 190 

116.  But  (3)  granted  that  the  appropriate  combination  of  these  two 

elements  is  always  a considerable  good  and  may  be  a very 
gi’eat  one,  we  may  ask  whether,  where  there  is  added  to  this 
a true  belief  in  the  existence  of  the  object  of  the  cognition,  the 
whole  thus  formed  is  not  much  more  valuable  still.  . . 192 

117.  I think  that  this  question  should  be  answered  in  the  afhrma- 

tive  ; but  in  order  to  ensure  that  this  judgment  is  correct, 
we  must  carefully  distinguish  it 194 

118.  from  the  two  judgments  (a)  that  knowledge  is  valuable  as  a 

means,  (b)  that,  where  the  object  of  the  cognition  is  itself 
a good  thing,  its  existence,  of  course,  adds  to  the  value  of  the 


119.  if,  however,  we  attempt  to  avoid  being  biassed  by  these  two 

facts,  it  stiU  seems  that  mere  true  behef  may  be  a con- 
dition essential  to  great  value 197 

120.  We  thus  get  a third  essential  constituent  of  many  great  goods ; 

and  in  this  way  we  are  able  to  justify  (1)  the  attribution  of 
value  to  knowledge,  over  and  above  its  value  as  a means,  and 
(2)  the  intrinsic  superiority  of  the  proper  appreciation  of  a 
real  object  over  the  appreciation  of  an  equally  valuable 
object  of  mere  imagination  : emotions  directed  towards  real 
objects  may  thus,  even  if  the  object  be  inferior,  claim 
equality  with  the  highest  imaginative  pleasures.  . .198 

121.  Finally  (4)  with  regard  to  the  objects  of  the  cognition  which  is 

essential  to  these  good  wholes,  it  is  the  business  of  Aesthetics 
to  analyse  their  nature : it  need  only  be  here  remarked 
(1)  that,  by  calling  them  ‘beautiful,’  we  mean  that  they  have 
this  relation  to  a good  whole  ; and  (2)  that  they  are,  for  the 
most  part,  themselves  complex  wholes,  such  that  the  ad- 


and  (2).  . 


184 


whole  state  of  things  : 


195 


XXVI 


CONTENTS 


SBCT.  PAGP 

miring  contemplation  of  the  whole  greatly  exceeds  in  value 
the  sum  of  the  values  of  the  admiring  contemplation  of  the 
parts 200 


122.  With  regard  to  II.  Personal  Affection,  the  object  is  here  not 

merely  beautiful  but  also  good  in  itself ; it  appears,  however, 
that  the  appreciation  of  what  is  thus  good  in  itself,  viz.  the 
mental  qualities  of  a person,  is  certainly,  by  itself,  not  so 
great  a good  as  the  whole  formed  by  the  combination  with 
it  of  an  appreciation  of  corporeal  beauty  ; it  is  doubtful 
whether  it  is  even  so  great  a good  as  the  mere  appreciation 
of  corporeal  beauty  ; but  it  is  certain  that  the  combination 
of  both  is  a far  greater  good  than  either  singly.  . . . 203 

123.  It  follows  from  what  has  been  said  that  we  have  every  reason 

to  suppose  that  a cognition  of  material  qualities,  and  even 
their  existence,  is  an  essential  constituent  of  the  Ideal  or 


Summum  Bonum  : there  is  only  a bare  possibility  that  they 
are  not  included  in  it 205 

124.  It  remains  to  consider  positive  evils  and  mixed  goods.  I.  Evils 

may  be  divided  into  three  classes,  namely  ....  207 

125.  (1)  evils  which  consist  in  the  love,  or  admiration,  or  enjoy- 

ment of  what  is  evil  or  ugly 208 

126.  (2)  evils  which  consist  in  the  hatred  or  contempt  of  what  is 

good  or  beautiful 211 

127.  and  (3)  the  consciousness  of  intense  pain  : this  appears  to  be 

the  only  thing,  either  greatly  good  or  greatly  evil,  which  does 


not  involve  both  a cognition  and  an  emotion  directed  towards 
its  object ; and  hence  it  is  not  analogous  to  pleasure  in 
respect  of  its  intrinsic  value,  while  it  also  seems  not  to  add  to 
the  vileness  of  a whole,  as  a whole,  in  which  it  is  combined 
with  another  bad  thing,  whereas  pleasure  does  add  to  the 
goodness  of  a whole,  in  which  it  is  combined  with  another 
good  thing ; . . 212 

128.  but  pleasure  and  pain  are  completely  analogous  in  this,  that 

pleasure  by  no  means  always  increases,  and  pain  by  no 
means  always  decreases,  the  total  value  of  a whole  in  which 
it  is  included  : the  converse  is  often  true 213 

129.  In  order  to  consider  II.  Mixed  Goods,  we  must  first  distinguish 

between  (1)  the  value  of  a whole  as  a whole,  and  (2)  its  value 
on  the  whole  or  total  value:  (l)  = the  difference  between  (2) 
and  the  sum  of  the  values  of  the  parts.  In  view  of  this  dis- 
tinction, it  then  appears  : 214 

130.  (1)  That  the  mere  combination  of  two  or  more  evils  is  never 

positively  good  on  the  whole,  although  it  may  certainly  have 
great  intrinsic  value  as  a whole ; . . . . , .216 


CONTENTS 


XXVll 


SECT. 

131.  but  (2)  That  a whole  which  includes  a cognition  of  something 

evil  or  ugly  may  yet  be  a great  positive  good  on  the  whole  : 
most  virtues,  which  have  any  intrinsic  value  whatever,  seem 
to  be  of  this  kind,  e.g.  (a)  courage  and  compassion,  and 
{h)  moral  goodness  ; all  these  are  instances  of  the  hatred  or 
contempt  of  what  is  evil  or  ugly  ; 

132.  but  there  seems  no  reason  to  think  that,  where  the  evil  object 

exists,  the  total  state  of  things  is  ever  positively  good  on  the 
whole,  although  the  existence  of  the  evil  may  add  to  its 
value  as  a whole.  

133.  Hence  (1)  no  actually  existing  evil  is  necessary  to  the  Ideal, 

(2)  the  contemplation  of  imaginary  evils  is  necessary  to  it, 
and  (3)  where  evils  already  exist,  the  existence  of  mixed 
virtues  has  a value  independent  both  of  its  consequences 
and  of  the  value  which  it  has  in  common  with  the  proper 
appreciation  of  imaginary  evils 

134.  Concluding  remarks.  

135.  Summary  of  chapter 


Fias 


216 


219 


220 

222 

224 


CHAPTER  T. 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS, 

1.  It  is  very  easy  to  point  out  some  among  our  every-day 
judgments,  with  the  truth  of  which  Ethics  is  undoubtedly 
concerned.  Whenever  we  say,  ‘So  and  so  is  a good  man,’  or 
‘That  fellow  is  a villain’;  whenever  we  ask,  ‘What  ought  I to 
do?’  or  ‘Is  it  wrong  for  me  to  do  like  this?’;  whenever  we 
hazard  such  remarks  as  ‘Temperance  is  a virtue  and  drunken- 
ness a vice’ — it  is  undoubtedly  the  business  of  Ethics  to  discuss 
such  questions  and  such  statements;  to  argue  what  is  the  true 
answer  when  we  ask  what  it  is  right  to  do,  and  to  give  reasons 
for  thinking  that  our  statements  about  the  character  of  persons 
or  the  morality  of  actions  are  true  or  false.  In  the  vast  majority 
of  cases,  where  we  make  statements  involving  any  of  the  terms 
‘virtue,’  ‘vice,’  ‘duty,’  ‘right,’  ‘ought,’  ‘good,’  ‘bad,’  we  are 
making  ethical  judgments;  and  if  we  wish  to  discuss  their 
truth,  we  shall  be  discussing  a point  of  Ethics. 

So  much  as  this  is  not  disputed;  but  it  falls  very  far  short 
of  defining  the  province  of  Ethics.  That  province  may  indeed 
be  defined  as  the  whole  truth  about  that  which  is  at  the  same 
time  common  to  all  such  judgments  and  peculiar  to  them.  But 
we  have  still  to  ask  the  question:  What  is  it  that  is  thus 
common  and  peculiar?  And  this  is  a question  to  which  very 
different  answers  have  been  given  by  ethical  philosophers  of 
acknowledged  reputation,  and  none  of  them,  perhaps,  completely 
satisfactory. 

2.  If  we  take  such  examples  as  those  given  above,  we  shall 
not  be  far  wrong  in  saying  that  they  are  all  of  them  concerned 


2 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


[chap. 


with  the  question  of ‘conduct’ — with  the  question,  what,  in  the 
conduct  of  us,  human  beings,  is  good,  and  what  is  bad,  what  is 
right,  and  what  is  wrong.  For  when  we  say  that  a man  is  good, 
we  commonly  mean  that  he  acts  rightly;  when  we  say  that 
drunkenness  is  a vice,  we  commonly  mean  that  to  get  drunk  is 
a wrong  or  wicked  action.  And  this  discussion  of  human  con- 
duct is,  in  fact,  that  with  which  the  name  ‘Ethics’  is  most 
intimately  associated.  It  is  so  associated  by  derivation;  and 
conduct  is  undoubtedly  by  far  the  commonest  and  most  generally 
interesting  object  of  ethical  judgments. 

Accordingly,  we  find  that  many  ethical  philosophers  are 
disposed  to  accept  as  an  adequate  definition  of  ‘Ethics’  the 
statement  that  it  deals  with  the  question  what  is  good  or  bad 
in  human  conduct.  They  hold  that  its  enquiries  are  properly 
confined  to  ‘conduct’  or  to  ‘practice’;  they  hold  that  the  name 
‘practical  philosophy’  covers  all  the  matter  with  which  it  has 
to  do.  Now,  without  discussing  the  proper  meaning  of  the 
word  (for  verbal  questions  are  properly  left  to  the  writers  of 
dictionaries  and  other  persons  interested  in  literature;  philo- 
sophy, as  we  shall  see,  has  no  concern  with  them),  I may  say 
that  I intend  to  use  ‘Ethics’  to  cover  more  than  this — a usage, 
for  which  there  is,  I think,  quite  sufficient  authority.  I am 
using  it  to  cover  an  enquiry  for  which,  at  all  events,  there  is  no 
other  word:  the  general  enquiry  into  what  is  good. 

Ethics  is  undoubtedly  concerned  with  the  question  what 
good  conduct  is;  but,  being  concerned  with  this,  it  obviously 
does  not  start  at  the  beginning,  unless  it  is  prepared  to  tell  us 
what  is  good  as  well  as  what  is  conduct.  For  ‘good  conduct’  is 
a complex  notion : all  conduct  is  not  good ; for  some  is  certainly 
bad  and  some  may  be  indifferent.  And  on  the  other  hand, 
other  things,  beside  conduct,  may  be  good ; and  if  they  are  so, 
then,  ‘good’  denotes  some  property,  that  is  common  to  them 
and  conduct;  and  if  we  examine  good  conduct  alone  of  all  good 
things,  then  we  shall  be  in  danger  of  mistaking  for  this  property, 
some  property  which  is  not  shared  by  those  other  things : and 
thus  we  shall  have  made  a mistake  about  Ethics  even  in  this 
limited  sense;  for  we  shall  not  know  what  good  conduct  really 
is.  This  IS  a mistake  which  many  writers  have  actually  made. 


l]  THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS  3 

from  limiting  their  enquiry  to  conduct.  And  hence  I shall  try 
to  avoid  it  by  considering  first  what  is  good  in  general;  hoping, 
that  if  we  can  arrive  at  any  certainty  about  this,  it  will  be  much 
easier  to  settle  the  question  of  good  conduct:  for  we  all  know 
pretty  well  what  ‘conduct’  is.  This,  then,  is  our  first  question: 
What  is  good  ? and  What  is  bad  ? and  to  the  discussion  of  this 
question  (or  these  questions)  I give  the  name  of  Ethics,  since 
that  science  must,  at  all  events,  include  it. 

3.  But  this  is  a question  which  may  have  many  meanings. 
If,  for  example,  each  of  us  were  to  say  ‘I  am  doing  good  now’ 
or  ‘I  had  a good  dinner  yesterday,’  these  statements  would  each 
of  them  be  some  sort  of  answer  to  our  question,  although 
perhaps  a false  one.  So,  too,  when  A asks  B what  school  he 
ought  to  send  his  son  to,  B’s  answer  will  certainly  be  an  ethical 
judgment.  And  similarly  all  distribution  of  praise  or  blame  to 
any  personage  or  thing  that  has  existed,  now  exists,  or  will 
exist,  does  give  some  answer  to  the  question  ‘ What  is  good  ? ’ 
In  all  such  cases  some  particular  thing  is  judged  to  be  good  or 
bad:  the  question  ‘What?’  is  answered  by  ‘This.’  But  this  is 
not  the  sense  in  which  a scientific  Ethics  asks  the  question.  Not 
one,  of  all  the  many  million  answers  of  this  kind,  which  must  be 
true,  can  form  a part  of  an  ethical  system ; although  that  science 
must  contain  reasons  and  principles  sufficient  for  deciding  on 
the  truth  of  all  of  them.  There  are  far  too  many  persons,  things 
and  events  in  the  world,  past,  present,  or  to  come,  for  a dis- 
cussion of  their  individual  merits  to  be  embraced  in  any  science. 
Ethics,  therefore,  does  not  deal  at  all  with  facts  of  this  nature, 
facts  that  are  unique,  individual,  absolutely  particular;  facts 
with  which  such  studies  as  history,  geography,  astronomy,  are 
compelled,  in  part  at  least,  to  deal.  And,  for  this  reason,  it  is 
not  the  business  of  the  ethical  philosopher  to  give  personal 
advice  or  exhortation. 

4.  But  there  is  another  meaning  which  may  be  given  to 
the  question  ‘What  is  good?’  ‘Books  are  good’  would  be  an 
answer  to  it,  though  an  answer  obviously  false;  for  some  books 
are  very  bad  indeed.  And  ethical  judgments  of  this  kind  do 
indeed  belong  to  Ethics;  though  I shall  not  deal  with  many  of 
them.  Such  is  the  judgment  ‘Pleasure  is  good’ — a judgment, 


4 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTEE  OF  ETHICS 


[chap. 


of  which  Ethics  should  discuss  the  truth,  although  it  is  not 
nearly  as  important  as  that  other  judgment,  with  which  we  shall 
be  much  occupied  presently — ‘Pleasure  alone  is  good.’  It  is 
judgments  of  this  sort,  which  are  made  in  such  books  on  Ethics 
as  contain  a list  of  ‘virtues’ — in  Aristotle’s  ‘Ethics’  for  example. 
But  it  is  judgments  of  precisely  the  same  kind,  which  form  the 
substance  of  what  is  commonly  supposed  to  be  a study  different 
from  Ethics,  and  one  much  less  respectable — the  study  of 
Casuistry.  We  may  be  told  that  Casuistry  differs  from  Ethics, 
in  that  it  is  much  more  detailed  and  particular.  Ethics  much 
more  general.  But  it  is  most  important  to  notice  that  Casuistry 
does  not  deal  with  anything  that  is  absolutely  particular — 
particular  in  the  only  sense  in  which  a perfectly  precise  line  can 
be  drawn  between  it  and  what  is  general.  It  is  not  particular 
in  the  sense  just  noticed,  the  sense  in  which  this  book  is  a 
particular  book,  and  A’s  friend’s  advice  particular  advice. 
Casuistry  may  indeed  be  more  particular  and  Ethics  more 
general;  but  that  means  that  they  differ  only  in  degree  and 
not  in  kind.  And  this  is  universally  true  of  ‘particular’  and 
‘general,’  when  used  in  this  common,  but  inaccurate,  sense.  So 
far  as  Ethics  allows  itself  to  give  lists  of  virtues  or  even  to  name 
constituents  of  the  Ideal,  it  is  indistinguishable  from  Casuistry. 
Both  alike  deal  with  what  is  general,  in  the  sense  in  which 
physics  and  chemistry  deal  with  what  is  general.  Just  as 
chemistry  aims  at  discovering  what  are  the  properties  of  oxygen, 
wherever  it  occurs,  and  not  only  of  this  or  that  particular  speci- 
men of  oxygen;  so  Casuistry  aims  at  discovering  what  actions 
are  good,  whenever  they  occur.  In  this  respect  Ethics  and 
Casuistry  alike  are  to  be  classed  with  such  sciences  as  physics, 
chemistry  and  physiology,  in  their  absolute  distinction  from 
those  of  which  history  and  geography  are  instances.  And  it  is 
to  be  noted  that,  owing  to  their  detailed  nature,  casuistical  in- 
vestigations are  actually  nearer  to  physics  and  to  chemistry 
than  are  the  investigations  usually  assigned  to  Ethics.  For  just 
as  physics  cannot  rest  content  with  the  discovery  that  light  is 
propagated  by  waves  of  ether,  but  must  go  on  to  discover  the 
particular  nature  of  the  ether-waves  corresponding  to  each 
several  colour;  so  Casuistry,  not  content  with  the  general  law 


I] 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


5 


that  charity  is  a virtue  must  attempt  to  discover  the  relative 
merits  of  every  different  form  of  charity.  Casuistry  forms, 
therefore,  part  of  the  ideal  of  ethical  science:  Ethics  cannot  be 
complete  without  it.  The  defects  of  Casuistry  are  not  defects 
of  principle;  no  objection  can  be  taken  to  its  aim  and  object. 
It  has  failed  only  because  it  is  far  too  difficult  a subject  to  be 
treated  adequately  in  our  present  state  of  knowledge.  The 
casuist  has  been  unable  to  distinguish,  in  the  cases  which  he 
treats,  those  elements  upon  which  their  value  depends.  Hence 
he  often  thinks  two  cases  to  be  alike  in  respect  of  value,  when 
in  reality  they  are  alike  only  in  some  other  respect.  It  is  to 
mistakes  of  this  kind  that  the  pernicious  influence  of  such 
investigations  has  been  due.  For  Casuistry  is  the  goal  of 
ethical  investigation.  It  cannot  be  safely  attempted  at  the 
beginning  of  our  studies,  but  only  at  the  end. 

5.  But  our  question  ‘ What  is  good?  ’ may  have  still  another 
meaning.  We  may,  in  the  third  place,  mean  to  ask,  not  what 
thing  or  things  are  good,  but  how  ‘good’  is  to  be  defined.  This 
is  an  enquiry  which  belongs  only  to  Ethics,  not  to  Casuistry; 
and  this  is  the  enquiry  which  will  occupy  us  first. 

It  is  an  enquiry  to  which  most  special  attention  should  be 
directed;  since  this  question,  how  ‘good’  is  to  be  defined,  is  the 
most  fundamental  question  in  all  Ethics.  That  which  is  meant 
by  ‘good’  is,  in  fact,  except  its  converse  ‘bad,’  the  only  simple 
object  of  thought  which  is  peculiar  to  Ethics.  Its  definition  is, 
therefore,  the  most  essential  point  in  the  definition  of  Ethics; 
and  moreover  a mistake  with  regard  to  it  entails  a far  larger 
number  of  erroneous  ethical  judgments  than  any  other.  Unless 
this  first  question  be  fully  understood,  and  its  true  answer  clearly 
recognised,  the  rest  of  Ethics  is  as  good  as  useless  from  the  point 
of  view  of  systematic  knowledge.  True  ethical  judgments,  of 
the  two  kinds  last  dealt  with,  may  indeed  be  made  by  those  who 
do  not  know  the  answer  to  this  question  as  well  as  by  those 
who  do;  and  it  goes  without  saying  that  the  two  classes  of 
people  may  lead  equally  good  lives.  But  it  is  extremely  unlikely 
that  the  most  general  ethical  judgments  will  be  equally  valid,  in 
the  absence  of  a true  answer  to  this  question:  I shall  presently 
try  to  shew  that  the  gravest  errors  have  been  largely  due  to 


3 


M 


6 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


[chap. 


beliefs  in  a false  answer.  And,  in  any  case,  it  is  impossible  that, 
till  the  answer  to  this  question  be  known,  any  one  should  know 
wJiat  is  the  evidence  for  any  ethical  judgment  whatsoever.  But 
the  main  object  of  Ethics,  as  a systematic  science,  is  to  give 
correct  reasons  for  thinking  that  this  or  that  is  good;  and, 
unless  this  question  be  answered,  such  reasons  cannot  be  given. 
Even,  therefore,  apart  from  the  fact  that  a false  answer  leads  to 
false  conclusions,  the  present  enquiry  is  a most  necessary  and 
important  part  of  the  science  of  Ethics. 

6.  What,  then,  is  good?  How  is  good  to  be  defined?  Now, 
it  may  be  thought  that  this  is  a verbal  question.  A definition 
does  indeed  often  mean  the  expressing  of  one  word’s  meaning 
in  other  words.  But  this  is  not  the  sort  of  definition  I am 
asking  for.  Such  a definition  can  never  be  of  ultimate  impor- 
tance in  any  study  except  lexicography.  If  I wanted  that  kind 
of  definition  I should  have  to  consider  in  the  first  place  how 
people  generally  used  the  word  ‘good’;  but  my  business  is  not 
with  its  proper  usage,  as  established  by  custom.  I should,  in- 
deed, be  foolish,  if  I tried  to  use  it  for  something  which  it  did 
not  usually  denote:  if,  for  instance,  I were  to  announce  that, 
whenever  I used  the  word  ‘good,’  I must  be  understood  to  be 
thinking  of  that  object  which  is  usually  denoted  by  the  word 
‘table.’  I shall,  therefore,  use  the  word  in  the  sense  in  which 
I think  it  is  ordinarily  used;  but  at  the  same  time  I am  not 
anxious  to  discuss  whether  I am  right  in  thinking  that  it  is 
so  used.  My  business  is  solely  with  that  object  or  idea,  which 
I hold,  rightly  or  wrongly,  that  the  word  is  generally  used  to 
stand  for.  What  I want  to  discover  is  the  nature  of  that  object 
or  idea,  and  about  this  I am  extremely  anxious  to  arrive  at  an 
agreement. 

But,  if  we  understand  the  question  in  this  sense,  my  answer 
to  it  may  seem  a very  disappointing  one.  If  I am  asked  ‘What 
is  good?’  my  answer  is  that  good  is  good,  and  that  is  the  end 
of  the  matter.  Or  if  I am  asked  ‘How  is  good  to  be  defined?’ 
my  answer  is  that  it  cannot  be  defined,  and  that  is  all  I have  to 
say  about  it.  But  disappointing  as  these  answers  may  appear, 
they  are  of  the  very  last  importance.  To  readers  who  are 
familiar  with  philosophic  terminology,  I can  express  their  im- 


I] 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


7 


portance  by  saying  that  they  amount  to  this : That  propositions 
about  the  good  are  all  of  them  synthetic  and  never  analytic; 
and  that  is  plainly  no  trivial  matter.  And  the  same  thing  may 
be  expressed  more  popularly,  by  saying  that,  if  I am  right,  then 
nobody  can  foist  upon  us  such  an  axiom  as  that  ‘ Pleasure  is  the 
only  good’  or  that  ‘The  good  is  the  desired’  on  the  pretence 
that  this  is  ‘ the  very  meaning  of  the  word.’ 

7.  Let  us,  then,  consider  this  position.  Wy  point  is  that 
‘good’  is  a simple  notion,  just  as  ‘yellow’  is  a simple  notion; 
that,  just  as  you  cannot,  by  any  manner  of  means,  explain  to 
any  one  who  does  not  already  know  it,  what  yellow  is,  so  you 
cannot  explain  what  good  is.  Definitions  of  the  kind  that  I 
was  asking  for,  definitions  which  describe  the  real  nature  of  the 
object  or  notion  denoted  by  a word,  and  which  do  not  merely 
tell  us  what  the  word  is  used  to  mean,  are  only  possible  when 
the  object  or  notion  in  question  is  something  complex^  You 
can  give  a definition  of  a horse,  because  a horse  has  many 
different  properties  and  qualities,  all  of  which  you  can  enume- 
rate. But  when  you  have  enumerated  them  all,  when  you  have 
reduced  a horse  to  his  simplest  terms,  then  you  can  no  longer 
define  those  terms.  They  are  simply  something  which  you 
think  of  or  perceive,  and  to  any  one  who  cannot  think  of  or 
perceive  them,  you  can  never,  by  any  definition,  make  their 
nature  known.  It  may  perhaps  be  objected  to  this  that  we  are 
able  to  describe  to  others,  objects  which  they  have  never  seen 
or  thought  of.  We  can,  for  instance,  make  a man  understand 
what  a chimaera  is,  although  he  has  never  heard  of  one  or  seen 
one.  You  can  tell  him  that  it  is  an  animal  with  a lioness’s 
head  and  body,  with  a goat’s  head  growing  from  the  middle 
of  its  back,  and  with  a snake  in  place  of  a tail.  But  here  the 
object  which  you  are  describing  is  a complex  object;  it  is 
entirely  composed  of  parts,  with  which  we  are  all  perfectly 
familiar — a snake,  a goat,  a lioness;  and  we  know,  too,  the 
manner  in  which  those  parts  are  to  be  put  together,  because 
we  know  what  is  meant  by  the  middle  of  a lioness’s  back,  and 
where  her  tail  is  wont  to  grow.  And  so  it  is  with  all  objects, 
not  previously  known,  which  we  are  able  to  define:  they  are  all 
complex;  all  composed  of  parts,  which  may  themselves,  in  the 


8 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


[chap. 


first  instance,  be  capable  of  similar  definition,  but  which  must 
in  the  end  be  reducible  to  simplest  parts,  which  can  no  longer 
be  defined.  But  yellow  and  good,  we  say,  are  not  complex: 
they  are  notions  of  that  simple  kind,  out  of  which  definitions 
are  composed  and  with  which  the  power  of  further  defining 
ceases. 

8.  When  we  say,  as  Webster  says,  ‘The  definition  of  horse 
is  “A  hoofed  quadruped  of  the  genus  Equus,’”  we  may,  in  fact, 
mean  three  different  things.  (1)  We  may  mean  merely:  ‘When 
I say  “horse,”  you  are  to  understand  that  I am  talking  about 
a hoofed  quadruped  of  the  genus  Equus.’  This  might  be  called 
the  arbitrary  verbal  definition:  and  I do  not  mean  that  good  is 
indefinable  in  that  sense.  (2)  We  may  mean,  as  Webster  ought 
to  mean:  ‘When  most  English  people  say  “horse,”  they  mean 
a hoofed  quadruped  of  the  genus  Equus.’  This  may  be  called 
the  verbal  definition  proper,  and  I do  not  say  that  good  is 
indefinable  in  this  sense  either;  for  it  is  certainly  possible  to 
discover  how  people  use  a word:  otherwise,  we  could  never 
have  known  that  ‘good’  may  be  translated  by  ‘gut’  in  German 
and  by  ‘bon’  in  French.  But  (3)  we  may,  when  we  define 
horse,  mean  something  much  more  important.  We  may  mean 
that  a certain  object,  which  we  all  of  us  know,  is  composed  in 
a certain  manner:  that  it  has  four  legs,  a head,  a heart,  a liver, 
etc.,  etc.,  all  of  them  arranged  in  definite  relations  to  one 
another.  It  is  in  this  sense  that  I deny  good  to  be  definable. 
I say  that  it  is  not  composed  of  any  parts,  which  we  can  sub- 
stitute for  it  in  our  minds  when  we  are  thinking  of  it.  We 
might  think  just  as  clearly  and  correctly  about  a horse,  if  we 
thought  of  all  its  parts  and  their  arrangement  instead  of  thinking 
of  the  whole:  we  could,  I say,  think  how  a horse  differed  from 
a donkey  just  as  well,  just  as  truly,  in  this  way,  as  now  we  do, 
only  not  so  easily;  but  there  is  nothing  whatsoever  which  we 
could  so  substitute  for  good;  and  that  is  what  I mean,  when 
I say  that  good  is  indefinable. 

9.  But  I am  afraid  I have  still  not  removed  the  chief 
difficulty  which  may  prevent  acceptance  of  the  proposition  that 
good  is  indefinable.  I do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  good,  that 
which  is  good,  is  thus  indefinable;  if  I did  think  so,  I should  not 


I] 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTEE  OF  ETHICS 


9 


be  writing  on  Ethics,  for  my  main  object  is  to  help  towards 
discovering  that  definition.  It  is  just  because  I think  there 
will  be  less  risk  of  error  in  our  search  for  a definition  of  ‘ the 
good,’  that  I am  now  insisting  that  good  is  indefinable.  I must 
try  to  explain  the  difference  between  these  two.  I suppose  it 
may  be  granted  that  ‘good’  is  an  adjective.  Well  ‘the  good, 
‘that  which  is  good,’  must  therefore  be  the  substantive  to  which 
the  adjective  ‘good’  will  apply;  it  must  be  the  whole  of  that  to 
which  the  adjective  will  apply,  and  the  adjective  must  always 
truly  apply  to  it.  But  if  it  is  that  to  which  the  adjective  will 
apply,  it  must  be  something  different  from  that  adjective  itself; 
and  the  whole  of  that  something  different,  whatever  it  is,  will 
be  our  definition  of  the  good.  Now  it  may  be  that  this  some- 
thing will  have  other  adjectives,  beside  ‘good,’  that  will  apply 
to  it.  It  may  be  full  of  pleasure,  for  example;  it  may  be 
intelligent:  and  if  these  two  adjectives  are  really  part  of  its 
definition,  then  it  will  certainly  be  true,  that  pleasure  and  in- 
telligence are  good.  And  many  people  appear  to  think  that, 
if  we  say  ‘Pleasure  and  intelligence  are  good,’  or  if  we  say 
‘Only  pleasure  and  intelligence  are  good,’  we  are  defining  ‘good.’ 
Well,  I cannot  deny  that  propositions  of  this  nature  may  some- 
times be  called  definitions;  I do  not  know  well  enough  how 
the  word  is  generally  used  to  decide  upon  this  point.  I only 
wish  it  to  be  understood  that  that  is  not  what  I mean  when 
I say  there  is  no  possible  definition  of  good,  and  that  I shall 
not  mean  this  if  I use  the  word  again.  I do  most  fully  believe 
that  some  true  proposition  of  the  form  ‘Intelligence  is  good 
and  intelligence  alone  is  good’  can  be  found;  if  none  could  be 
found,  our  definition  of  the  good  would  be  impossible.  As  it  is. 
I believe  the  good  to  be  definable;  and  yet  I still  say  that  good 
itself  is  indefinable. 

10.  ‘Good,’  then,  if  we  mean  by  it  that  quality  which  we 
assert  to  belong  to  a thing,  when  we  say  that  the  thing  is  good, 
is  incapable  of  any  definition,  in  the  most  important  sense  of 
that  word.  The  most  important  sense  of  ‘dcfinitinn’  ig  t.Vigf.  fn 
which  a definition  states  what  are  the  parts  which  invariably 
compose^  a certain  whole;  and  in  this  sense  ‘good’  has  no 
definition  because  it  Is  silnpre  and  has  no  parts.  It  is  one  of 


10  THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS  [CHAP. 

those  innumerable  objects  of  thought  which  are  themselves 
incapable  of  definition,  because  they  are  the  ultimate  terms  by 
reference  to  which  whatever  is  capable  of  definition  must  be 
defined.  That  there  must  be  an  indefinite  number  of  such 
terms  is  obvious,  on  reflection;  since  we  cannot  define  anything 
except  by  an  analysis,  which,  when  carried  as  far  as  it  will  go, 
refers  us  to  something,  which  is  simply  different  from  anything 
else,  and  which  by  that  ultimate  difference  explains  the  pecu- 
liarity of  the  whole  which  we  are  defining;  for  every  whole 
contains  some  parts  which  are  common  to  other  wholes  also. 
There  is,  therefore,  no  intrinsic  difficulty  in  the  contention  that 
‘good’  denotes  a simple  and  indefinable  quality.  There  are 
many  other  instances  of  such  qualities. 

Consider  yellow,  for  example.  We  may  try  to  define  it,  by 
describing  its  physical  equivalent;  we  may  state  what  kind  of 
light-vibrations  must  stimulate  the  normal  eye,  in  order  that 
we  may  perceive  it.  But  a moment’s  reflection  is  sufficient  to 
shew  that  those  light-vibrations  are  not  themselves  what  we 
mean  by  yellow.  They  are  not  what  we  perceive.  Indeed  we 
should  never  have  been  able  to  discover  their  existence,  unless 
we  had  first  been  struck  by  the  patent  difference  of  quality 
between  the  different  colours.  The  most  we  can  be  entitled 
to  say  of  those  vibrations  is  that  they  are  what  corresponds  in 
space  to  the  yellow  which  we  actually  perceive. 

Yet  a mistake  of  this  simple  kind  has  commonly  been  made 
about  ‘good.’  It  may  be  true  that  all  things  which  are  good 
are  also  something  else,  just  as  it  is  true  that  all  things  which 
are  yellow  produce  a certain  kind  of  vibration  in  the  light. 
And  it  is  a fact,  that  Ethics  aims  at  discovering  what  are  those 
other  properties  belonging  to  all  things  which  are  good.  But 
far  too  many  philosophers  have  thought  that  when  they  named 
those  other  properties  they  were  actually' defiTning^ood;  that 
these  properties,  in  fact,  were  simply  not  ‘other,’  but  absolutely 
and  entirely  the  same  with  goodness.  This  view  I propose  to 
call  the  ‘naturalistic  fallacy’  and  of  it  I shall  now  endeavour 
to  dispose. 

11.  Let  us  consider  what  it  is  such  philosophers  say.  And 
first  it  is  to  be  noticed  that  they  do  not  agree  among  themselves. 


I] 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


11 


They  not  only  say  that  they  are  right  as  to  what  good  is,  but 
they  endeavour  to  prove  that  other  people  who  say  that  it  is 
something  else,  are  wrong.  One,  for  instance,  will  affirm  that 
good  is  pleasure,  another,  perhaps,  that  good  is  that  which  is 
desired ; and  each  of  these  will  argue  eagerly  to  prove  that  the 
other  is  wrong.  But  how  is  that  possible?  One  of  them  says 
that  good  is  nothing  but  the  object  of  desire,  and  at  the  same 
time  tries  to  prove  that  it  is  not  pleasure.  But  from  his  first 
assertion,  that  good  just  means  the  object  of  desire,  one  of  two 
things  must  follow  as  regards  his  proof: 

(1)  He  may  be  trying  to  prove  that  the  object  of  desire  is 
not  pleasure.  But,  if  this  be  all,  where  is  his  Ethics?  The 
position  he  is  maintaining  is  merely  a psychological  one.  Desire 
is  something  which  occurs  in  our  minds,  and  pleasure  is  some- 
thing else  which  so  occurs;  and  our  would-be  ethical  philosopher 
is  merely  holding  that  the  latter  is  not  the  object  of  the  former. 
But  what  has  that  to  do  with  the  question  in  dispute?  His 
opponent  held  the  ethical  proposition  that  pleasure  was  the 
good,  and  although  he  should  prove  a million  times  over  the 
psychological  proposition  that  pleasure  is  not  the  obj  ect  of  desire, 
he  is  no  nearer  proving  his  opponent  to  be  wrong.  The  position 
is  like  this.  One  man  says  a triangle  is  a circle : another  replies 
‘A  triangle  is  a straight  line,  and  I will  prove  to  you  that  I am 
right:  for’  (this  is  the  only  argument)  ‘a  straight  line  is  not  a 
circle.’  ‘That  is  quite  true,’  the  other  may  reply;  ‘but  never- 
theless a triangle  is  a circle,  and  you  have  said  nothing  whatever 
to  prove  the  contrary.  What  is  proved  is  that  one  of  us  is 
wrong,  for  'we  agree  that  a triangle  cannot  be  both  a straight 
line  and  a circle:  but  which  is  wrong,  there  can  be  no  earthly 
means  of  proving,  since  you  define  triangle  as  straight  line  and 
I define  it  as  circle.’ — Well,  that  is  one  alternative  which  any 
naturalistic  Ethics  has  to  face;  if  good  is  defined  as  something 
else,  it  is  then  impossible  either  to  prove  that  any  other 
definition  is  wrong  or  even  to  deny  such  definition. 

(2)  The  other  alternative  will  scarcely  be  more  welcome. 
It  is  that  the  discussion  is  after  all  a verbal  one.  When  A says 
‘Good  means  pleasant’  and  B says  ‘Good  means  desired,’  they 
may  merely  wish  to  assert  that  most  people  have  used  the  word 


12  THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS  [CHAP. 

for  what  is  pleasant  and  for  what  is  desired  respectively.  And 
this  is  quite  an  interesting  subject  for  discussion:  only  it  is  not 
a whit  more  an  ethical  discussion  than  the  last  was.  Nor  do  I 
think  that  any  exponent  of  naturalistic  Ethics  would  be  willing 
to  allow  that  this  was  all  he  meant.  They  are  all  so  anxious  to 
persuade  us  that  what  they  call  the  good  is  what  we  really 
ought  to  do.  ‘Do,  pray,  act  so,  because  the  word  “good”  is 
generally  used  to  denote  actions  of  this  nature’:  such,  on  this 
view,  would  be  the  substance  of  their  teaching.  And  in  so  far 
as  they  tell  us  how  we  ought  to  act,  their  teaching  is  truly 
ethical,  as  they  mean  it  to  be.  But  how  perfectly  absurd  is  the 
reason  they  would  give  for  it!  ‘You  are  to  do  this,  because 
most  people  use  a certain  word  to  denote  conduct  such  as  this.’ 
‘You  are  to  say  the  thing  which  is  not,  because  most  people 
call  it  lying.’  That  is  an  argument  just  as  good! — My  dear 
sirs,  what  we  want  to  know'  from  you  as  ethical  teachers,  is  not 
how  people  use  a word;  it  is  not  even,  what  kind  of  actions 
they  approve,  which  the  use  of  this  word  ‘good’  may  certainly 
imply:  what  we  want  to  know  is  simply  what  is  good.  We 
may  indeed  agree  that  what  most  people  do  think  good,  is 
actually  so;  we  shall  at  all  events  be  glad  to  know  their 
opinions:  but  when  we  say  their  opinions  about  what  is  good, 
we  do  mean  what  we  say;  we  do  not  care  whether  they  call 
that  thing  which  they  mean  ‘horse’  or  ‘table’  or  ‘chair,’  ‘gut’ 
or  ‘bon’  or  ‘aya^d?’;  we  want  to  know  what  it  is  that  they  so 
call.  When  they  say  ‘Pleasure  is  good,’  we  cannot  believe 
that  they  merely  mean  ‘Pleasure  is  pleasure’  and  nothing  more 
than  that. 

12.  p Suppose  a man  says  ‘I  am  pleased’;  and  suppose  that 
is  not  a lie  or  a mistake  but  the  truth.  Well,  if  it  is  true,  what 
does  that  mean?  It  means  that  his  mind,  a certain  definite 
mind,  distinguished  by  certain  definite  marks  from  all  othei’s, 
has  at  this  moment  a certain  definite  feeling  called  pleasure. 
‘Pleased’  means  nothing  but  having  pleasure,  and  though  we 
may  be  more  pleased  or  less  pleased,  and  even,  we  may  admit 
for  the  present,  have  one  or  another  kind  of  pleasure;  yet  in  so 
far  as  it  is  pleasure  we  have,  whether  there  be  more  or  less 
of  it,  and  whether  it  be  of  one  kind  or  another,  what  we  have  is 


I] 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


13 


one  definite  thing,  absolutely  indefinable,  some  one  thing  that 
is  the  same  in  all  the  various  degrees  and  in  all  the  various 
kinds  of  it  that  there  may  be.  We  may  be  able  to  say  how  it  is 
related  to  other  things:  that,  for  example,  it  is  in  the  mind, 
that  it  causes  desire,  that  we  are  conscious  of  it,  etc.,  etc.  We 
can,  I say,  describe  its  relations  to  other  things,  but  define  it  we 
can  not.  And  if  anybody  tried  to  define  pleasure  for  us  as 
being  any  other  natural  object;  if  anybody  were  to  say,  for 
instance,  that  pleasure  means  the  sensation  of  red,  and  were  to 
proceed  to  deduce  from  that  that  pleasure  is  a colour,  we  should 
be  entitled  to  laugh  at  him  and  to  distrust  his  future  statements 
about  pleasure^  Well,  that  would  be  the  same  fallacy  which  I 
have  called  the  naturalistic  fallacy.  That  ‘pleased’  does  not 
mean  ‘having  the  sensation  of  red,’  or  anything  else  whatever, 
does  not  prevent  us  from  understanding  what  it  does  mean.  It 
is  enough  for  us  to  know  that  ‘pleased’  does  mean  ‘having  the 
sensation  of  pleasure,’  and  though  pleasure  is  absolutely  in- 
definable, though  pleasure  is  pleasure  and  nothing  else  whatever, 
yet  we  feel  no  difficulty  in  saying  that  we  are  pleased.  The 
reason  is,  of  course,  that  when  I say  ‘I  am  pleased,’  I do  not 
mean  that  ‘I’  am  the  same  thing  as  ‘having  pleasure.’  And 
similarly  no  difficulty  need  be  found  in  my  saying  that  ‘pleasure 
is  good’  and  yet  not  meaning  that  ‘pleasure’  is  the  same  thing 
as  ‘good,’  that  pleasure  means  good,  and  that  good  means 
pleasure.Jlf  I were  to  imagine  that  when  I said  ‘I  am  pleased,’ 
I meant  that  I was  exactly  the  same  thing  as  ‘pleased,’  I should 
not  indeed  call  that  a naturalistic  fallacy,  although  it  would  be 
the  same  fallacy  as  I have  called  naturalistic  with  reference  to 
Ethics.  The  reason  of  this  is  obvious  enough.  When  a man 
confuses  two  natural  objects  with  one  another,  defining  the  one 
by  the  other,  if  for  instance,  he  confuses  himself,  who  is  one 
natural  object,  with  ‘pleased’  or  with  ‘pleasure’  which  are 
others,  then  there  is  no  reason  to  call  the  fallacy  naturalistic. 
But  if  he  confuses  ‘good,’  which  is  not  in  the  same  sense  a 
natural  object,  with  any  natural  object  whatever,  then  there  is 
a reason  for  calling  that  a naturalistic  fallacy;  its  being  made 
with  regard  to  ‘good’  marks  it  as  something  quite  specific,  and 
this  specific  mistake  deserves  a name  because  it  is  so  common. 


14 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


[chap. 


As  for  the  reasons  why  good  is  not  to  be  considered  a natural 
object,  they  may  be  reserved  for  discussion  in  another  place. 
But,  for  the  present,  it  is  suflScient  to  notice  this:  Even  if  it 
were  a natural  object,  that  would  not  alter  the  nature  of  the 
fallacy  nor  diminish  its  importance  one  whit.  All  that  I have 
said  about  it  would  remain  quite  equally  true:  only  the  name 
which  I have  called  it  would  not  be  so  appropriate  as  I think  it 
is.  And  I do  not  care  about  the  name:  what  I do  care  about 
is  the  fallacy.  It  does  not  matter  what  we  call  it,  provided  we 
recognise  it  when  we  meet  with  it.  It  is  to  be  met  with  in 
almost  every  book  on  Ethics;  and  yet  it  is  not  recognised:  and 
that  is  why  it  is  necessary  to  multiply  illustrations  of  it,  and 
convenient  to  give  it  a name.  It  is  a very  simple  fallacy  indeed. 
When  we  say  that  an  orange  is  yellow,  we  do  not  think  our 
statement  binds  us  to  hold  that  ‘orange’  means  nothing  else 
than  ‘yellow,’  or  that  nothing  can  be  yellow  but  an  orange. 
Supposing  the  orange  is  also  sweet!  Does  that  bind  us  to  say 
that  ‘sweet’  is  exactly  the  same  thing  as  ‘yellow,’  that  ‘sweet’ 
must  be  defined  as  ‘yellow’?  And  supposing  it  be  recognised 
that  ‘yellow’  just  means  ‘yellow’  and  nothing  else  whatever, 
does  that  make  it  any  more  difficult  to  hold  that  oranges  are 
yellow?  Most  certainly  it  does  not:  on  the  contrary,  it  would 
be  absolutely  meaningless  to  say  that  oranges  were  yellow, 
unless  yellow  did  in  the  end  mean  just  ‘yellow’  and  nothing 
else  whatever — unless  it  was  absolutely  indefinable.  We  should 
not  get  any  very  clear  notion  about  things,  which  are  yellow — 
we  should  not  get  very  far  with  our  science,  if  we  were  bound 
to  hold  that  everything  which  was  yellow,  meant  exactly  the 
same  thing  as  yellow.  We  should  find  we  had  to  hold  that  an 
orange  was  exactly  the  same  thing  as  a stool,  a piece  of  paper, 
a lemon,  anything  you  like.  We  could  prove  any  number  of 
absurdities;  but  should  we  be  the  nearer  to  the  truth?  Why, 
then,  should  it  be  different  with  ‘good’?  Why,  if  good  is  good 
and  indefinable,  should  I be  held  to  deny  that  pleasure  is  good? 
Is  there  any  difficulty  in  holding  both  to  be  true  at  once?  On 
the  contrary,  there  is  no  meaning  in  saying  that  pleasure  is  good, 
unless  good  is  something  different  from  pleasure.  It  is  absolutely 
useless,  so  far  as  Ethics  is  concerned,  to  prove,  as  Mr  Spencer 


1] 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


15 


tries  to  do,  that  increase  of  pleasure  coincides  with  increase  of 
life,  unless  good  means  something  different  from  either  life  or 
pleasure.  He  might  just  as  well  try  to  prove  that  an  orange  is 
yellow  by  shewing  that  it  always  is  wrapped  up  in  paper. 

13.  In  fact,  if  it  is  not  the  case  that  ‘good’  denotes  some- 
thing simple  and  indefinable,  only  two  alternatives  are  possible: 
either  it  is  a complex,  a given  whole,  about  the  correct  analysis 
of  which  there  may  be  disagreement;  or  else  it  means  nothing 
at  all,  and  there  is  no  such  subject  as  Ethics.  In  general,  how- 
ever, ethical  philosophers  have  attempted  to  define  good,  without 
recognising  what  such  an  attempt  must  mean.  They  actually 
use  arguments  which  involve  one  or  both  of  the  absurdities 
considered  in  § 11.  We  are,  therefore,  justified  in  concluding 
that  the  attempt  to  define  good  is  chiefly  due  to  want  of  clear- 
ness as  to  the  possible  nature  of  definition.  There  are,  in  fact, 
only  two  serious  alternatives  to  be  considered,  in  order  to 
establish  the  conclusion  that  ‘good’  does  denote  a simple  and 
indefinable  notion.  It  might  possibly  denote  a complex,  as 
‘horse’  does;  or  it  might  have  no  meaning  at  all.  Neither  of 
these  possibilities  has,  however,  been  clearly  conceived  and 
seriously  maintained,  as  such,  by  those  who  presume  to  define 
good;  and  both  may  be  dismissed  by  a simple  appeal  to  facts. 

(1)  The  hypothesis  that  disagreement  about  the  meaning 
of  good  is  disagreement  with  regard  to  the  correct  analysis  of  a 
given  whole,  may  be  most  plainly  seen  to  be  incorrect  by  con- 
sideration of  the  fact  that,  whatever  definition  be  offered,  it  may 
be  always  asked,  with  significance,  of  the  complex  so  defined, 
whether  it  is  itself  good.  To  take,  for  instance,  one  of  the  more 
plausible,  because  one  of  the  more  complicated,  of  such  proposed 
definitions,  it  may  easily  be  thought,  at  first  sight,  that  to  be 
good  may  mean  to  be  that  which  we  desire  to  desire.  Thus 
if  we  apply  this  definition  to  a particular  instance  and  say 
‘When  we  think  that  A is  good,  we  are  thinking  that  A is  one 
of  the  things  which  we  desire  to  desire,’  our  proposition  may 
seem  quite  plausible.  But,  if  we  carry  the  investigation  further, 
and  ask  ourselves  ‘Is  it  good  to  desire  to  desire  A?’  it  is 
apparent,  on  a little  reflection,  that  this  question  is  itself  as 
intelligible,  as  the  original  question  ‘Is  A good?  ’ — that  we  are. 


16  THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS  [CHAP. 

in  fact,  now  asking  for  exactly  the  same  information  about  the 
desire  to  desire  A.  for  which  we  formerly  asked  with  regard  to  A 
itself.  But  it  is  also  apparent  that  the  meaning  of  this  second 
question  cannot  be  correctly  analysed  into  ‘Is  the  desire  to 
desire  A one  of  the  things  which  we  desire  to  desire?’:  we  have 
not  before  our  minds  anything  so  complicated  as  the  question 
‘ Do  we  desire  to  desire  to  desire  to  desire  A ? ’ Moreover  any 
one  can  easily  convince  himselt  by  inspection  that  the  predicate 
of  this  proposition — ‘good’ — is  positively  different  from  the 
notion  of  ‘desiring  to  desire’  which  enters  into  its  subject: 
‘That  we  should  desire  to  desire  A is  good’  is  not  merely 
equivalent  to  ‘That  A should  be  good  is  good.’  It  may  indeed 
be  true  that  what  we  desire  to  desire  is  always  also  good; 
perhaps,  even  the  converse  maybe  true:  but  it  is  very  doubtful 
whether  this  is  the  case,  and  the  mere  fact  that  we  understand 
very  well  what  is  meant  by  doubting  it,  shews  clearly  that  we 
have  two  different  notions  before  our  minds. 

(2)  And  the  same  consideration  is  sufficient  to  dismiss  the 
h}^pothesis  that  ‘good’  has  no  meaning  whatsoever.  It  is  very 
natural  to  make  the  mistake  of  supposing  that  what  is  uni- 
versally true  is  of  such  a nature  that  its  negation  would  be 
self-contradictory:  the  importance  which  has  been  assigned  to 
analytic  propositions  in  the  history  of  philosophy  shews  how 
easy  such  a mistake  is.  And  thus  it  is  very  easy  to  conclude 
that  what  seems  to  be  a universal  ethical  principle  is  in  fact  an 
identical  proposition;  that,  if,  for  example,  whatever  is  called 
‘good’  seems  to  be  pleasant,  the  proposition  ‘Pleasure  is  the 
good’  does  not  assert  a connection  between  two  different  notions, 
but  involves  only  one,  that  of  pleasure,  which  is  easily  recognised 
as  a distinct  entity.  But  whoever  will  attentively  consider  with 
himself  what  is  actually  before  his  mind  when  he  asks  the 
question  ‘Is  pleasure  (or  whatever  it  may  be)  after  all  good?’ 
can  easily  satisfy  himself  that  he  is  not  merely  wondering 
whether  pleasure  is  pleasant.  And  if  he  will  try  this  experiment 
with  each  suggested  definition  in  succession,  he  may  become 
expert  enough  to  recognise  that  in  every  case  he  has  before  his 
mind  a unique  object,  with  regard  to  the  connection  of  which 
with  any  other  object,  a distinct  question  may  be  asked.  Every 


I] 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


17 


one  does  in  fact  understand  the  question  ‘Is  this  good?’  When 
he  thinks  of  it,  his  state  of  mind  is  different  from  what  it  would 
be,  were  he  asked  ‘Is  this  pleasant,  or  desired,  or  approved?’ 
It  has  a distinct  meaning  for  him,  even  though  he  may  not 
recognise  in  what  respect  it  is  distinct.  Whenever  he  thinks  of 
‘intrinsic  value,’  or  ‘intrinsic  worth,’  or  says  that  a thing  ‘ought 
to  exist,’  he  has  before  his  mind  the  unique  object — the  unique 
property  of  things — which  I mean  by  ‘good.’  Everybody  is 
constantly  aware  of  this  notion,  although  he  may  never  become 
aware  at  all  that  it  is  different  from  other  notions  of  which  he 
is  also  aware.  But,  for  correct  ethical  reasoning,  it  is  extremely 
important  that  he  should  become  aware  of  this  fact;  and,  as 
soon  as  the  nature  of  the  problem  is  clearly  understood,  there 
should  be  little  difficulty  in  advancing  so  far  in  analysis. 

14.  ‘Good,’  then,  is  indefinable;  and  yet,  so  far  as  I know, 
there  is  only  one  ethical  writer.  Prof.  Henry  Sidgwick,  who  has 
clearly  recognised  and  stated  this  fact.  We  shall  see,  indeed, 
how  far  many  of  the  most  reputed  ethical  systems  fall  short  of 
drawing  the  conclusions  which  follow  from  such  a recognition. 
At  present  I will  only  quote  one  instance,  which  will  serve  to 
illustrate  the  meaning  and  importance  of  this  principle  that 
‘good’  is  indefinable,  or,  as  Prof.  Sidgwick  says,  an  ‘unanalysable 
notion.’  It  is  an  instance  to  which  Prof.  Sidgwick  himself 
refers  in  a note  on  the  passage,  in  which  he  argues  that  ‘ought’ 
is  unanalysableh 

‘Bentham,’  says  Sidgwick,  ‘explains  that  his  fundamental 
principle  “states  the  greatest  happiness  of  all  those  whose 
interest  is  in  question  as  being  the  right  and  proper  end  of 
human  action’”;  and  yet  ‘his  language  in  other  passages  of  the 
same  chapter  would  seem  to  imply’  that  he  means  by  the  word 
“right”  “conducive  to  the  general  happiness.”  Prof.  Sidgwick 
sees  that,  if  you  take  these  two  statements  together,  you  get 
the  absurd  result  that  ‘greatest  happiness  is  the  end  of  human 
action,  which  is  conducive  to  the  general  happiness’;  and  so 
absurd  does  it  seem  to  him  to  call  this  result,  as  Bentham  calls 
it,  ‘the  fundamental  principle  of  a moral  system,’  that  he  sug- 
gests that  Bentham  cannot  have  meant  it.  Yet  Prof.  Sidgwick 
1 Methods  of  Ethics,  Bk.  i,  Chap,  iii,  § 1 (6th  edition). 


18 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


[chap. 


himself  states  elsewhere^  that  Psychological  Hedonism  is 
not  seldom  confounded  with  Egoistic  Hedonism’;  and  that 
confusion,  as  we  shall  see,  rests  chiefly  on  that  same  fallacy, 
the  naturalistic  fallacy,  which  is  implied  in  Bentham’s  state- 
ments. Prof.  Sidgwick  admits  therefore  that  this  fallacy  is 
sometimes  committed,  absurd  as  it  is;  and  I am  inclined  to 
think  that  Bentham  may  really  have  been  one  of  those  who 
committed  it.  Mill,  as  we  shall  see,  certainly  did  commit  it. 
In  any  case,  whether  Bentham  committed  it  or  not,  his  doctrine, 
as  above  quoted,  will  serve  as  a very  good  illustration  of  this 
fallacy,  and  of  the  importance  of  the  contrary  proposition  that 
good  is  indefinable. 

Let  us  consider  this  doctrine.  Bentham  seems  to  imply,  so 
Prof.  Sidgwick  says,  that  the  word  ‘right’  means  ‘conducive  to 
general  happiness.’  Now  this,  by  itself,  need  not  necessarily 
involve  the  naturalistic  fallacy.  For  the  word  ‘right’  is  very 
commonly  appropriated  to  actions  which  lead  to  the  attainment 
of  what  is  good ; which  are  regarded  as  means  to  the  ideal  and 
not  as  ends-in-themselves.  This  use  of  ‘right,’  as  denoting 
what  is  good  as  a means,  whether  or  not  it  be  also  good  as 
an  end,  is  indeed  the  use  to  which  I shall  confine  the  word. 
Had  Bentham  been  using  ‘right’  in  this  sense,  it  might  be 
perfectly  consistent  for  him  to  define  right  as  ‘conducive  to  the 
general  happiness,’  provided  only  (and  notice  this  proviso)  he 
had  already  proved,  or  laid  down  as  an  axiom,  that  general 
happiness  was  the  good,  or  (what  is  equivalent  to  this)  that 
general  happiness  alone  was  good.  For  in  that  case  he  would 
have  already  defined  the  good  as  general  happiness  (a  position 
perfectly  consistent,  as  we  have  seen,  with  the  contention  that 
‘good’  is  indefinable),  and,  since  right  was  to  be  defined  as 
‘conducive  to  the  good,’  it  would  actually  mean  ‘conducive  to 
general  happiness.’  But  this  method  of  escape  from  the  charge 
of  having  committed  the  naturalistic  fallacy  has  been  closed  by 
Bentham  himself.  For  his  fundamental  principle  is,  we  see, 
that  the  greatest  happiness  of  all  concerned  is  the  right  and 
proper  end  of  human  action.  He  applies  the  word  ‘right,’  there- 
fore, to  the  end,  as  such,  not  only  to  the  means  which  are 
1 Methods  of  Ethics,  Bk.  i.  Chap,  iv,  § 1. 


l]  THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS  19 

conducive  to  it;  and,  that  being  so,  right  can  no  longer  be 
defined  as  ‘conducive  to  the  general  happiness,’  without  in- 
volving the  fallacy  in  question.  For  now  it  is  obvious  that  the 
definition  of  right  as  conducive  to  general  happiness  can  be  used 
by  him  in  support  of  the  fundamental  principle  that  general 
happiness  is  the  right  end;  instead  of  being  itself  derived  from 
that  principle.  If  right,  by  definition,  means  conducive  to 
general  happiness,  then  it  is  obvious  that  general  happiness 
is  the  right  end.  It  is  not  necessary  now  first  to  prove  or 
assert  that  general  happiness  is  the  right  end,  before  right 
is  defined  as  conducive  to  general  happiness — a perfectly  valid 
procedure;  but  on  the  contrary  the  definition  of  right  as  con- 
ducive to  general  happiness  proves  general  happiness  to  be  the 
right  end — a perfectly  invalid  procedure,  since  in  this  case  the 
statement  that  ‘general  happiness  is  the  right  end  of  human 
'antibn’  is  not  an  ethical  principle  at  all,  but  either,  as  we  have 
seen,  a proposition  about  the  meaning  of  words,  or  else  a 
proposition  about^the  nature  of  general  happiness,  not  about  its 
rightness  or  goodness. 

Now,  I do  hot  wish  the  importance  I assign  to  this  fallacy 
to  be  misunderstood.  The  discovery  of  it  does  not  at  all  refute 
Bentham’s  contention  that  greatest  happiness  is  the  proper 
end  of  human  action,  if  that  be  understood  as  an  ethical 
proposition,  as  he  undoubtedly  intended  it.  That  principle 
may  be  true  all  the  same;  we  shall  consider  whether  it  is  so  in 
succeeding  chapters.  Bentham  might  have  maintained  it,  as 
Prof.  Sidgwick  does,  even  if  the  fallacy  had  been  pointed 
out  to  him.  What  I am  maintaining  is  that  the  reasons  which 
he  actually  gives  for  his  ethical  proposition  are  fallacious  ones 
so  far  as  they  consist  in  a definition  of  right.  What  I suggest 
is  that  he  did  not  perceive  them  to  be  fallacious;  that,  if 
he  had  done  so,  he  would  have  been  led  to  seek  for  other 
reasons  in  support  of  his  Utilitarianism;  and  that,  had  he 
sought  for  other  reasons,  he  might  have  found  none  which  he 
thought  to  be  sufficient.  In  that  case  he  would  have  changed 
his  whole  system — a most  important  consequence.  It  is  un- 
doubtedly also  possible  that  he  would  have  thought  other 
reasons  to  be  sufficient,  and  in  that  case  his  ethical  system, 


20 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


[chap. 


in  its  main  results,  would  still  have  stood.  But,  even  in  this 
latter  case,  his  use  of  the  fallacy  would  be  a serious  objection  to 
him  as  an  ethical  philosopher.  For  it  is  the  business  ol  Ethics, 
I must  insist,  not  only  to  obtain  true  results,  but  also  to  find 
valid  reasons  for  them.  The  direct  object  of  Ethics  is  know- 
ledge and  not  practice;  and  any  one  who  uses  the  naturalistic 
fallacy  has  certainly  not  fulfilled  this  first  object,  however 
correct  his  practical  principles  may  be. 

My  objections  to  Naturalism  are  then,  in  the  first  place, 
that  it  offers  no  reason  at  all,  far  less  any  valid  reason,  for  any 
ethical  principle  whatever;  and  in  this  it  already  fails  to  satisfy 
the  requirements  of  Ethics,  as  a scientific  study.  But  in  the 
second  place  I contend  that,  though  it  gives  a reason  for  no 
ethical  principle,  it  is  a cause  of  the  acceptance  of  false  prin- 
ciples— it  deludes  the  mind  into  accepting  ethical  principles, 
which  are  false;  q,nd  in  this  it  is  contrary  to  every  aim  of 
Ethics.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  if  we  start  with  a definition  of 
right  conduct  as  conduct  conducive  to  general  happiness;  then, 
knowing  that  right  conduct  is  universally  conduct  conducive  to 
the  good,  we  very  easily  arrive  at  the  result  that  the  good  is 
general  happiness.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  once  recognise 
that  we  must  start  our  Ethics  without  a definition,  we  shall  be 
much  more  apt  to  look  about  us,  before  we  adopt  any  ethical 
principle  whatever;  and  the  more  we  look  about  us,  the  less 
likely  are  we  to  adopt  a false  one.  It  may  be  replied  to  this: 
Yes,  but  we  shall  look  about  us  just  as  much,  before  we  settle  on 
our  definition,  and  are  therefore  iust  as  likely  to  be  right.  But 
I will  try  to  shew  that  this  is  not  the  case.  If  w^_  start  with 
the  conymtipn_iliat-a.4iefiiiitiQnm£  good-can  be  found,,  we  start 
with  the  conviction  that  good  can  mean  nothing  else  than  some 
one  property  of  things;  and  our  only  business  will  then  be  to 
discover  what  that  property:  is,_Bu,t  if  we  recognise  that,  so  far 
as  tEe^’meanmg  of  good  goes,  anything  whatever  may  be  good, 
we  start  with  a much  more  operTlnindT“  Moreover,  apart  from 
the  fact  that,  when  we  think  we  have  a definition,  we  cannot 
logically  defend  our  ethical  principles  in  any  way  whatever, 
we  shall  also  be  much  less  apt  to  defend  them  well,  even  if 
illogically.  For  we  shall  start  with  the  conviction  that  good 


l]  THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS  21 

must  mean  so  and  so,  and  shall  therefore  be  inclined  either  to 
misunderstand  our  opponent’s  arguments  or  to  cut  them  short 
with  the  reply,  ‘ This  is  not  an  open  question : the  very  meaning 
of  the  word  decides  it;  no  one  can  think  otherwise  except 
through  confusion.’ 

15.  Our  first  conclusion  as  to  the  subject-matter  of  Ethics 
is,  then,  that  there  is  a simple,  indefinable,  unanalysable  object 
of  thought  by  reference  to  which  it  must  be  defined.  By  what 
name  we  call  this  unique  object  is  a matter  of  indifference,  so 
long  as  we  clearly  recognise  what  it  is  and  that  it  does  differ 
from  other  objects.  The  words  which  are  commonly  taken  as 
the  signs  of  ethical  judgments  all  do  refer  to  it;  and  they  are 
expressions  of  ethical  judgments  solely  because  they  do  so  refer. 
But  they  may  refer  to  it  in  two  different  ways,  which  it  is  very 
important  to  distinguish,  if  we  are  to  have  a complete  definition 
of  the  range  of  ethical  judgments.  Before  I proceeded  to  argue 
that  there  was  such  an  indefinable  notion  involved  in  ethical 
notions,  I stated  (§  4)  that  it  was  necessary  for  Ethics  to  enume- 
rate all  true  universal  judgments,  asserting  that  such  and  such 
a thing  was  good,  whenever  it  occurred.  But,  although  all  such 
judgments  do  refer  to  that  unique  notion  which  I have  called 
‘good,’  they  do  not  all  refer  to  it  in  the  same  way.  They  may 
either  assert  that  this  unique  property  does  always  attach  to 
the  thing  in  question,  or  else  they  may  assert  only  that  the 
thing  in  question  is  a cause  or  necessary  condition  for  the 
existence  of  other  things  to  which  this  unique  property  does 
attach.  The  nature  of  these  two  species  of  universal  ethical 
judgments  is  extremely  different;  and  a great  part  of  the 
difficulties,  which  are  met  with  in  ordinary  ethical  speculation, 
are  due  to  the  failure  to  distinguish  them  clearly.  Their  dif- 
ference has,  indeed,  received  expression  in  ordinary  language  by 
the  contrast  between  the  terms  ‘good  as  means’  and  ‘good  in 
itself,’  ‘value  as  a means’  and  ‘intrinsic  value.’  But  these 
terms  are  apt  to  be  applied  correctly  only  in  the  more  obvious 
instances;  and  this  seems  to  be  due  to  the  fact  that  the 
distinction  between  the  conceptions  which  they  denote  has  not 
been  made  a separate  object  of  investigation.  This  distinction 
may  be  briefly  pointed  out  as  follows. 


22  THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS  [CHAP. 

16.  Whenever  we  judge  that  a thing  is  ‘good  as  a means,’ 
we  are  making  a judgment  with  regard  to  its  causal  relations: 
we  judge  both  that  it  will  have  a particular  kind  of  effect,  and 
that  that  effect  will  be  good  in  itself.  But  to  find  causal 
judgments  that  are  universally  true  is  notoriously  a matter 
of  extreme  difficulty.  The  late  date  at  which  most  of  the 
physical  sciences  became  exact,  and  the  comparative  fewness 
of  the  laws  which  they  have  succeeded  in  establishing  even 
now,  are  sufficient  proofs  of  this  difficulty.  With  regard,  then, 
to  what  are  the  most  frequent  objects  of  ethical  judgments, 
namely  actions,  it  is  obvious  that  we  cannot  be  satisfied  that 
any  of  our  universal  causal  judgments  are  true,  even  in  the 
sense  in  which  scientific  laws  are  so.  We  cannot  even  discover 
hypothetical  laws  of  the  form  ‘Exactly  this  action  will  always 
under  these  conditions,  produce  exactly  that  effect.’  But  for  a 
correct  ethical  judgment  with  regard  to  the  effects  of  certain 
actions  we  require  more  than  this  in  two  respects.  (1)  We  require 
to  know  that  a given  action  will  produce  a certain  effect,  under 
whatever  circumstances  it  occurs.  But  this  is  certainly  impossible. 
It  is  certain  that  in  different  circumstances  the  same  action  may 
produce  effects  which  are  utterly  different  in  all  respects  upon 
which  the  value  of  the  efiects  depends.  Hence  we  can  never  be 
entitled  to  more  than  a generalisation — to  a proposition  of  the 
form  ‘This  result  generally  follows  this  kind  of  action’;  and 
even  this  generalisation  will  only  be  true,  if  the  circumstances 
under  which  the  action  occurs  are  generally  the  same.  This  is 
in  fact  the  case,  to  a great  extent,  within  any  one  particular 
age  and  state  of  society.  But,  when  we  take  other  ages  into 
account,  in  many  most  important  cases  the  normal  circum- 
stances of  a given  kind  of  action  will  be  so  different,  that  the 
generalisation  which  is  true  for  one  will  not  be  true  for  another. 
With  regard  then  to  ethical  judgments  which  assert  that  a 
certain  kind  of  action  is  good  as  a means  to  a certain  kind 
of  effect,  none  will  be  universally  true;  and  many,  though 
generally  true  at  one  period,  will  be  generally  false  at  others. 
But  (2)  we  require  to  know  not  only  that  one  good  effect  will 
be  produced,  but  that,  among  all  subsequent  events  affected  by 
the  action  in  question,  the  balance  of  good  will  be  greater 


I] 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


23 


than  if  any  other  possible  action  had  been  performed.  In  other 
words,  to  judge  that  an  action  is  generally  a means  to  good  is 
to  judge  not  only  that  it  generally  does  some  good,  but  that  it 
generally  does  the  greatest  good  of  which  the  circumstances 
admit.  In  this  respect  ethical  judgments  about  the  effects 
of  action  involve  a difficulty  and  a complication  far  greater  than 
that  involved  in  the  establishment  of  scientific  laws.  For  the 
latter  we  need  only  consider  a single  effect;  for  the  former  it  is 
essential  to  consider  not  only  this,  but  the  effects  of  that  effect, 
and  so  on  as  far  as  our  view  into  the  future  can  reach.  It  is, 
indeed,  obvious  that  our  view  can  never  reach  far  enough  for  us 
to  be  certain  that  any  action  will  produce  the  best  possible 
effects.  We  must  be  content,  if  the  greatest  possible  balance 
of  good  seems  to  be  produced  within  a limited  period.  But  it 
is  important  to  notice  that  the  whole  series  of  effects  within 
a period  of  considerable  length  is  actually  taken  account  of  in 
our  common  judgments  that  an  action  is  good  as  a means;  and 
that  hence  this  additional  complication,  which  makes  ethical 
generalisations  so  far  more  difficult  to  establish  than  scientific 
laws,  is  one  which  is  involved  in  actual  ethical  discussions,  and 
is  of  practical  importance.  The  commonest  rules  of  conduct 
involve  such  considerations  as  the  balancing  of  future  bad 
health  against  immediate  gains;  and  even  if  we  can  never 
settle  with  any  certainty  how  we  shall  secure  the  greatest 
possible  total  of  good,  we  try  at  least  to  assure  ourselves  that 
probable  future  evils  will  not  be  greater  than  the  immediate 
good. 

17.  There  are,  then,  judgments  which  state  that  certain 
kinds  of  things  have  good  effects;  and  such  judgments,  for  the 
reasons  just  given,  have  the  important  characteristics  (1)  that 
they  are  unlikely  to  be  true,  if  they  state  that  the  kind  of  thing 
in  question  always  has  good  effects,  and  (2)  that,  even  if  they 
only  state  that  it  generally  has  good  effects,  many  of  them  will 
only  be  true  of  certain  periods  in  the  world’s  history.  On  the 
other  hand  there  are  judgments  which  state  that  certain  kinds 
of  things  are  themselves  good;  and  these  differ  from  the  last  in 
that,  if  true  at  all,  they  are  all  of  them  universally  true.  It  is, 
therefore,  extremely  important  to  distinguish  these  two  kinds 


24 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


[chap. 


of  possible  judgments.  Both  may  be  expressed  in  the  same 
language:  in  both  cases  we  commonly  say  ‘Such  and  such  a 
thing  is  good.’  But  in  the  one  case  ‘good’  will  mean  ‘good  as 
means,’  i.e.  merely  that  the  thing  is  a means  to  good — will  have 
good  effects:  in  the  other  case  it  will  mean  ‘good  as  end’ — we 
shall  be  i udging  that  the  thing  itself  has  the  property  which,  in 
the  first  case,  we  asserted  only  to  belong  to  its  effects.  It  is 
plain  that  these  are  very  different  assertions  to  make  about 
a thing;  it  is  plain  that  either  or  both  of  them  may  be  made, 
both  truly  and  falsely,  about  all  manner  of  things;  and  it  is 
certain  that  unless  we  are  clear  as  to  which  of  the  two  we  mean 
to  assert,  we  shall  have  a very  poor  chance  of  deciding  rightly 
whether  our  assertion  is  true  or  false.  It  is  precisely  this  clear- 
ness as  to  the  meaning  of  the  question  asked  which  has  hitherto 
been  almost  entirely  lacking  in  ethical  speculation.  Ethics  has 
always  been  predominantly  concerned  with  the  investigation  of 
a limited  class  of  actions.  With  regard  to  these  we  may  ask 
both  how  far  they  are  good  in  themselves  and  how  far  they  have 
a general  tendency  to  produce  good  results.  And  the  arguments 
brought  forward  in  ethical  discussion  have  always  been  of  both 
classes — both  such  as  would  prove  the  conduct  in  question  to  be 
good  in  itself  and  such  as  would  prove  it  to  be  good  as  a means. 
But  that  these  are  the  only  questions  which  any  ethical  dis- 
cussion can  have  to  settle,  and  that  to  settle  the  one  is  not  the 
same  thing  as  to  settle  the  other — these  two  fundamental  facts 
have  in  general  escaped  the  notice  of  ethical  philosophers. 
Ethical  questions  are  commonly  asked  in  an  ambiguous  form. 
It  is  asked  ‘What  is  a man’s  duty  under  these  circumstances?’ 
or  ‘Is  it  right  to  act  in  this  way?’  or  ‘What  ought  we  to  aim 
at  securing?’  But  all  these  questions  are  capable  of  further 
analysis;  a correct  answer  to  any  of  them  involves  both  judg- 
ments of  what  is  good  in  itself  and  causal  judgments.  This  is 
implied  even  by  those  who  maintain  that  we  have  a direct  and 
immediate  judgment  of  absolute  rights  and  duties.  Such  a 
judgment  can  only  mean  that  the  course  of  action  in  question  is 
the  best  thing  to  do;  that,  by  acting  so,  every  good  that  can  be 
secured  will  have  been  secured.  Now  we  are  not  concerned 
with  the  question  whether  such  a judgment  will  ever  be  true. 


I] 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


25 


The  question  is ; What  does  it  imply,  if  it  is  true  ? And  the 
only  possible  answer  is  that,  whether  true  or  false,  it  implies 
both  a proposition  as  to  the  degree  of  goodness  of  the  action  in 
question,  as  compared  with  other  things,  and  a number  of  causal 
propositions.  For  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  action  will  have 
consequences:  and  to  deny  that  the  consequences  matter  is 
to  make  a judgment  of  their  intrinsic  value,  as  compared  with 
the  action  itself.  In  asserting  that  the  action  is  the  best  thing 
to  do,  we  assert  that  it  together  with  its  consequences  presents 
a greater  sum  of  intrinsic  value  than  any  possible  alternative. 
And  this  condition  may  be  realised  by  any  of  the  three  cases : — 
(a)  If  the  action  itself  has  greater  intrinsic  value  than  any 
alternative,  whereas  both  its  consequences  and  those  of  the 
alternatives  are  absolutely  devoid  either  of  intrinsic  merit  or 
intrinsic  demerit;  or  (b)  if,  though  its  consequences  are  in- 
trinsically bad,  the  balance  of  intrinsic  value  is  greater  than 
would  be  produced  by  any  alternative;  or  (c)  if,  its  consequences 
being  intrinsically  good,  the  degree  of  value  belonging  to  them 
and  it  conjointly  is  greater  than  that  of  any  alternative  series. 
In  short,  to  assert  that  a certain  line  of  conduct  is,  at  a given 
time,  absolutely  right  or  obligatory,  is  obviously  to  assert  that 
more  good  or  less  evil  will  exist  in  the  world,  if  it  be  adopted 
than  if  anything  else  be  done  instead.  But  this  implies  a 
judgment  as  to  the  value  both  of  its  own  consequences  and 
of  those  of  any  possible  alternative.  And  that  an  action  will 
have  such  and  such  consequences  involves  a number  of  causal 
judgments. 

Similarly,  in  answering  the  question  ‘What  ought  we  to  aim 
at  securing?’  causal  judgments  are  again  involved,  but  in  a 
somewhat  different  way.  We  are  liable  to  forget,  because  it  is 
so  obvious,  that  this  question  can  never  be  answered  correctly 
except  by  naming  something  which  can  be  secured.  Not  every- 
thing can  be  secured;  and,  even  if  we  judge  that  nothing  which 
cannot  be  obtained  would  be  of  equal  value  with  that  which 
can,  the  possibility  of  the  latter,  as  well  as  its  value,  is  essential 
to  its  being  a proper  end  of  action.  Accordingly  neither  our 
judgments  as  to  what  actions  we  ought  to  perform,  nor  even  our 
judgments  as  to  the  ends  which  they  ought  to  produce,  are 


26 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


[chap. 


pure  judgments  of  intrinsic  value.  With  regard  to  the  former, 
an  action  which  is  absolutely  obligatory  may  have  no  intrinsic 
value  whatsoever;  that  it  is  perfectly  virtuous  may  mean 
merely  that  it  causes  the  best  possible  effects.  And  with  regard 
to  the  latter,  these  best  possible  results  which  justify  our  action 
can,  in  any  case,  have  only  so  much  of  intrinsic  value  as  the 
laws  of  nature  allow  us  to  secure;  and  they  in  their  turn  may 
have  no  intrinsic  value  whatsoever,  but  may  merely  be  a means 
to  the  attainment  (in  a still  further  future)  of  something  that 
has  such  value.  Whenever,  therefore,  we  ask  ‘What  ought  we 
to  do?’  or  ‘What  ought  we  to  try  to  get?’  we  are  asking 
questions  which  involve  a correct  answer  to  two  others,  com- 
pletely different  in  kind  from  one  another.  We  must  know  both 
what  degree  of  intrinsic  value  different  things  have,  and  how 
these  different  things  may  be  obtained.  But  the  vast  majority 
of  questions  which  have  actually  been  discussed  in  Ethics — all 
practical  questions,  indeed — involve  this  double  knowledge;  and 
they  have  been  discussed  without  any  clear  separation  of  the 
two  distinct  questions  involved.  A great  part  of  the  vast 
disagreements  prevalent  in  Ethics  is  to  be  attributed  to  this 
failure  in  analysis.  By  the  use  of  conceptions  which  involve 
both  that  of  intrinsic  value  and  that  of  causal  relation,  as  if  they 
involved  intrinsic  value  only,  two  different  errors  have  been 
rendered  almost  universal.  Either  it  is  assumed  that  nothing 
has  intrinsic  value  which  is  not  possible,  or  else  it  is  assumed 
that  what  is  necessary  must  have  intrinsic  value.  Hence  the 
primary  and  peculiar  business  of  Ethics,  the  determination  what 
things  have  intrinsic  value  and  in  what  degrees,  has  received  no 
adequate  treatment  at  all.  And  on  the  other  hand  a thorough 
discussion  of  means  has  been  also  largely  neglected,  owing  to  an 
obscure  perception  of  the  truth  that  it  is  perfectly  irrelevant  to 
the  question  of  intrinsic  values.  But  however  this  may  be,  and 
however  strongly  any  particular  reader  may  be  convinced  that 
some  one  of  the  mutually  contradictory  systems  which  hold  the 
field  has  given  a correct  answer  either  to  the  question  what  has 
intrinsic  value,  or  to  the  question  what  we  ought  to  do,  or  to 
both,  it  must  at  least  be  admitted  that  the  questions  what  is 
best  in  itself  and  what  will  bring  about  the  best  possible,  are 


I] 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


27 


utterly  distinct;  that  both  belong  to  the  actual  subject-matter 
of  Ethics;  and  that  the  more  clearly  distinct  questions  are 
distinguished,  the  better  is  our  chance  of  answering  both 
correctly. 

18.  There  remains  one  point  which  must  not  be  omitted 
in  a complete  description  of  the  kind  of  questions  which  Ethics 
has  to  answer.  The  main  division  of  those  questions  is,  as 
I have  said,  into  two;  the  question  what  things  are  good  in 
themselves,  and  the  question  to  what  other  things  these  are 
related  as  effects.  The  first  of  these,  which  is  the  primary 
ethical  question  and  is  presupposed  by  the  other,  includes  a 
correct  comparison  of  the  various  things  w'hich  have  intrinsic 
value  (if  there  are  many  such)  in  respect  of  the  degree  of  value 
which  they  have;  and  such  comparison  involves  a difficulty  of 
principle  which  has  greatly  aided  the  confusion  of  intrinsic 
value  with  mere  ‘ goodness  as  a means.’  It  has  been  pointed  out 
that  one  difference  between  a judgment  which  asserts  that  a 
thing  is  good  in  itself,  and  a judgment  which  asserts  that  it  is 
a means  to  good,  consists  in  the  fact  that  the  first,  if  true  of 
one  instance  of  the  thing  in  question,  is  necessarily  true  of  all; 
whereas  a thing  which  has  good  effects  under  some  circumstances 
may  have  bad  ones  under  others.  Now  it  is  certainly  true  that  , 
all  judgments  of  intrinsic  value  are  in  this  sense  universal;  but 
the  principle  which  I have  now  to  enunciate  may  easily  make 
it  appear  as  if  they  were  not  so  but  resembled  the  judgment 
of  means  in  being  merely  general.  There  is,  as  will  presently 
be  maintained,  a vast  number  of  different  things,  each  of  which 
has  intrinsic  value ; there  are  also  very  many  which  are  positively 
bad;  and  there  is  a still  larger  class  of  things,  which  appear 
to  be  indifferent.  But  a thing  belonging  to  any  of  these  three 
classes  may  occur  as  part  of  a whole,  which  includes  among 
its  other  parts  other  things  belonging  both  to  the  same  and  to 
the  other  two  classes ; and  these  wholes,  as  such,  may  also  have 
intrinsic  value.  The  paradox,  to  which  it  is  necessary  to  call 
attention,  is  that  tne  value  of  such  a whole  hears  no  regular  pro- 
portion to  the  sum  of  the  values  of  its  parts.  It  is  certain  that  a 
good  thing  may  exist  in  such  a relation  to  another  good  thing 
that  the  value  of  the  whole  thus  formed  is  immensely  greater 


28  THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS  [CHAP. 

than  the  sum  of  the  values  of  the  two  good  things.  It  is  certain 
that  a whole  formed  of  a good  thing  and  an  indifferent  thing 
may  have  immensely  greater  value  than  that  good  thing  itself 
possesses.  It  is  certain  that  two  bad  things  or  a bad  thing  and 
an  indifferent  thing  may  form  a whole  much  worse  than  the 
sum  of  badness  of  its  parts.  And  it  seems  as  if  indifferent 
things  may  also  be  the  sole  constituents  of  a whole  which  has 
great  value,  either  positive  or  negative.  Whether  the  addition 
of  a bad  thing  to  a good  whole  may  increase  the  positive  value 
of  the  whole,  or  the  addition  of  a bad  thing  to  a bad  may 
produce  a whole  having  positive  value,  may  seem  more  doubt- 
ful; but  it  is,  at  least,  possible,  and  this  possibility  must  be 
taken  into  account  in  our  ethical  investigations.  However  we 
may  decide  particular  questions,  the  principle  is  clear.  The 
value  of  a whole  must  not  he  assumed  to  be  the  same  as  the  sum 
of  the  values  of  its  parts. 

A single  instance  will  suffice  to  illustrate  the  kind  of  relation 
in  question.  It  seems  to  be  true  that  to  be  conscious  of  a 
beautiful  object  is  a thing  of  great  intrinsic  value;  whereas 
the  same  object,  if  no  one  be  conscious  of  it,  has  certainly  com- 
paratively little  value,  and  is  commonly  held  to  have  none  at  all. 
But  the  consciousness  of  a beautiful  object  is  certainly  a whole 
of  some  sort  in  which  we  can  distinguish  as  parts  the  object  on 
the  one  hand  and  the  being  conscious  on  the  other.  Now  this 
latter  factor  occurs  as  part  of  a different  whole,  whenever  we 
are  conscious  of  anything;  and  it  would  seem  that  some  of  these 
wholes  have  at  all  events  very  little  value,  and  may  even  be 
indifferent  or  positively  bad.  Yet  we  cannot  always  attribute 
the  slightness  of  their  value  to  any  positive  demerit  in  the  object 
which  differentiates  them  from  the  consciousness  of  beauty; 
the  object  itself  may  approach  as  near  as  possible  to  absolute 
neutrality.  Since,  therefore,  mere  consciousness  does  not  always 
confer  great  value  upon  the  whole  of  which  it  forms  a part,  even 
though  its  object  may  have  no  great  demerit,  we  cannot  at- 
tribute the  great  superiority  of  the  consciousness  of  a beautiful 
thing  over  the  beautiful  thing  itself  to  the  mere  addition  of  the 
value  of  consciousness  to  that  of  the  beautiful  thing.  Whatever 
the  intrinsic  value  of  consciousness  may  be,  it  does  not  give  to 


I] 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


29 


the  whole  of  which  it  forms  a part  a value  proportioned  to  the 
sum  of  its  value  and  that  of  its  object.  If  this  be  so,  we  have 
here  an  instance  of  a whole  possessing  a different  intrinsic  value 
from  the  sum  of  that  of  its  parts;  and  whether  it  be  so  or  not, 
what  is  meant  by  such  a difference  is  illustrated  by  this  case. 

19.  There  are,  then,  wholes  which  possess  the  property  that 
their  value  is  different  from  the  sum  of  the  values  of  their  parts; 
and  the  relations  which  subsist  between  such  parts  and  the 
whole  of  which  they  form  a part  have  not  hitherto  been  dis- 
tinctly recognised  or  received  a separate  name.  Two  points  are 
especially  worthy  of  notice.  (1)  It  is  plain  that  the  existence  of 
any  such  part  is  a necessary  condition  for  the  existence  of  that 
good  which  is  constituted  by  the  whole.  And  exactly  the  same 
language  will  also  express  the  relation  between  a means  and 
the  good  thing  which  is  its  effect.  But  yet  there  is  a most 
important  difference  between  the  two  cases,  constituted  by  the 
fact  that  the  part  is,  whereas  the  means  is  not,  a part  of  the 
good  thing  for  the  existence  of  which  its  existence  is  a necessary 
condition.  The  necessity  by  which,  if  the  good  in  question  is  to 
exist,  the  means  to  it  must  exist  is  merely  a natural  or  causal 
necessity.  If  the  laws  of  nature  were  different,  exactly  the 
same  good  might  exist,  although  what  is  now  a necessary 
condition  of  its  existence  did  not  exist.  The  existence  of  the 
means  has  no  intrinsic  value ; and  its  utter  annihilation  would 
leave  the  value  of  that  which  it  is  now  necessary  to  secure 
entirely  unchanged.  But  in  the  case  of  a part  of  such  a whole 
as  we  are  now  considering,  it  is  otherwise.  In  this  case  the 
good  in  question  cannot  conceivably  exist,  unless  the  part  exist 
also.  The  necessity  which  connects  the  two  is  quite  inde- 
pendent of  natural  law.  What  is  asserted  to  have  intrinsic 
value  is  the  existence  of  the  whole;  and  the  existence  of  the 
whole  includes  the  existence  of  its  part.  Suppose  the  part 
removed,  and  what  remains  is  not  what  was  asserted  to  have 
intrinsic  value;  but  if  we  suppose  a means  removed,  what 
remains  is  just  what  was  asserted  to  have  intrinsic  value.  And 
yet  (2)  the  existence  of  the  part  may  itself  have  no  more 
intrinsic  value  than  that  of  the  means.  It  is  this  fact  which 
constitutes  the  paradox  of  the  relation  which  we  are  discussing. 


30  TnE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS  [CHAP. 

It  has  just  been  said  that  what  has  intrinsic  value  is  the 
existence  of  the  whole,  and  that  this  includes  the  existence  of 
the  part;  and  from  this  it  would  seem  a natural  inference  that 
the  existence  of  the  part  has  intrinsic  value.  But  the  inference 
would  be  as  false  as  if  we  were  to  conclude  that,  because  the 
number  of  two  stones  was  two,  each  of  the  stones  was  also  two. 
The  part  of  a valuable  whole  retains  exactly  the  same  value 
when  it  is,  as  when  it  is  not,  a part  of  that  whole.  If  it  had 
value  under  other  circumstances,  its  value  is  not  any  greater 
when  it  is  part  of  a far  more  valuable  whole;  and  if  it  had  no 
value  by  itself,  it  has  none  still,  however  great  be  that  of  the 
whole  of  which  it  now  forms  a part.  We  are  not  then  justified 
in  asserting  that  one  and  the  same  thing  is  under  some  circum- 
stances intrinsically  good,  and  under  others  not  so;  as  we  are 
justified  in  asserting  of  a means  that  it  sometimes  does  and 
sometimes  does  not  produce  good  results.  And  yet  we  are 
justified  in  asserting  that  it  is  far  more  desirable  that  a certain 
thing  should  exist  under  some  circumstances  than  under  others; 
namely  when  other  things  will  exist  in  such  relations  to  it  as  to 
form  a more  valuable  whole.  It  will  not  have  more  intrinsic 
value  under  these  circumstances  than  under  others;  it  will  not 
necessarily  even  be  a means  to  the  existence  of  things  having 
more  intrinsic  value ; but  it  will,  like  a means,  be  a necessary 
condition  for  the  existence  of  that  which  has  greater  intrinsic 
value,  although,  unlike  a means,  it  will  itself  form  a part  of  this 
more  valuable  existent. 

20.  I have  said  that  the  peculiar  relation  between  part  and 
whole  which  I have  just  been  trying  to  define  is  one  which  has 
received  no  separate  name.  It  would,  however,  be  useful  that 
it  should  have  one ; and  there  is  a name,  which  might  well  be 
appropriated  to  it,  if  only  it  could  be  divorced  from  its  present 
unfortunate  usage.  Philosophers,  especially  those  who  profess 
to  have  derived  great  benefit  from  the  writings  of  Hegel,  have 
latterly  made  much  use  of  the  terms  ‘organic  whole,’  ‘organic 
unity,’  ‘organic  relation.’  The  reason  why  these  terms  might 
well  be  appropriated  to  the  use  suggested  is  that  the  peculiar 
relation  of  parts  to  whole,  just  defined,  is  one  of  the  properties 
which  distinguishes  the  wholes  to  which  they  are  actually  applied 


I] 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


31 


with  the  greatest  frequency.  And  the  reason  why  it  is  desirable 
that  they  should  be  divorced  from  their  present  usage  is  that, 
as  at  present  used,  they  have  no  distinct  sense  and,  on  the  con- 
trary, both  imply  and  propagate  errors  of  confusion. 

To  say  that  a thing  is  an  ‘organic  whole’  is  generally  under- 
stood to  imply  that  its  parts  are  related  to  one  another  and  to 
itself  as  means  to  end;  it  is  also  understood  to  imply  that  they 
have  a property  described  in  some  such  phrase  as  that  they  have 
'no  meaning  or  significance  apart  from  the  whole’;  and  finally 
such  a whole  is  also  treated  as  if  it  had  the  property  to  which 
I am  proposing  that  the  name  should  be  confined.  But  those 
who  use  the  term  give  us,  in  general,  no  hint  as  to  how  they 
suppose  these  three  properties  to  be  related  to  one  another. 
It  seems  generally  to  be  assumed  that  they  are  identical;  and 
always,  at  least,  that  they  are  necessarily  connected  with  one 
another.  That  they  are  not  identical  I have  already  tried  to 
shew;  to  suppose  them  so  is  to  neglect  the  very  distinctions 
pointed  out  in  the  last  paragraph;  and  the  usage  might  well  be 
discontinued  merely  because  it  encourages  such  neglect.  But 
a still  more  cogent  reason  for  its  discontinuance  is  that,  so  far 
from  being  necessarily  connected,  the  second  is  a property  which 
can  attach  to  nothing,  being  a self-contradictory  conception; 
whereas  the  first,  if  we  insist  on  its  most  important  sense, 
applies  to  many  cases,  to  which  we  have  no  reason  to  think  that 
the  third  applies  also,  and  the  third  certainly  applies  to  many 
to  which  the  first  does  not  apply. 

21.  These  relations  between  the  three  properties  just  dis- 
tinguished may  be  illustrated  by  reference  to  a whole  of  the  kind 
from  which  the  name  ‘organic’  was  derived — a whole  which  is 
an  organism  in  the  scientific  sense — namely  the  human  body. 

(1)  There  exists  between  many  parts  of  our  body  (though 
not  between  all)  a relation  which  has  been  familiarised  by  the 
fable,  attributed  to  Menenius  Agrippa,  concerning  the  belly 
and  its  members.  We  can  find  in  it  parts  such  that  the  con- 
tinued existence  of  the  one  is  a necessary  condition  for  the 
continued  existence  of  the  other;  while  the  continued  existence 
of  this  latter  is  also  a necessary  condition  for  the  continued 
existence  of  the  former.  This  amounts  to  no  more  than  saying 


32 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


[chap. 


that  in  the  body  we  have  instances  of  two  things,  both  enduring 
for  some  time,  which  have  a relation  of  mutual  causal  dependence 
on  one  another — a relation  ot  ‘ reciprocity.’  Frequently  no  more 
than  this  is  meant  by  saying  that  the  parts  ot  the  body  form  an 
‘organic  unity,’  or  that  they  are  mutually  means  and  ends  to 
one  another.  And  we  certainly  have  here  a striking  character- 
istic of  living  things.  But  it  would  be  extremely  rash  to  assert 
that  this  relation  of  mutual  causal  dependence  was  only  ex- 
hibited by  living  things  and  hence  was  sufficient  to  define  their 
peculiarity.  And  it  is  obvious  that  of  two  things  which  have 
this  relation  of  mutual  dependence,  neither  may  have  intrinsic 
value,  or  one  may  have  it  and  the  other  lack  it.  They  are  not 
necessarily  ‘ends’  to  one  another  in  any  sense  except  that  in 
which  ‘end’  means  ‘effect.’  And  moreover  it  is  plain  that  in 
this  sense  the  whole  cannot  be  an  end  to  any  of  its  parts.  We 
are  apt  to  talk  of  ‘the  whole’  in  contrast  to  one  of  its  parts, 
when  in  fact  we  mean  only  the  rest  of  the  parts.  But  strictly 
I the  whole  must  include  all  its  parts  and  no  part  can  be  a cause 
P'C’t  ;.-c  / I of  the  whole,  because  it  cannot  be  a cause  of  itself.  It  is  plain, 
' y > therefore,  that  this  relation  of  mutual  causal  dependence  implies 
nothing  with  regard  to  the  value  of  either  of  the  objects  which 
have  it;  and  that,  even  if  both  of  them  happen  also  to  have 
value,  this  relation  between  them  is  one  which  cannot  hold 
between  part  and  whole. 

But  (2)  it  may  also  be  the  case  that  our  body  as  a whole 
has  a value  greater  than  the  sum  of  values  of  its  parts;  and 
this  may  be  what  is  meant  when  it  is  said  that  the  parts  are 
means  to  the  whole.  It  is  obvious  that  if  we  ask  the  question 
‘Why  should  the  parts  be  such  as  they  are?’  a proper  answer 
may  be  ‘Because  the  whole  they  form  has  so  much  value.’  But 
it  is  equally  obvious  that  the  relation  which  we  thus  assert  to 
exist  between  part  and  whole  is  quite  different  from  that  which 
we  assert  to  exist  between  part  and  part  when  we  say  ‘This 
part  exists,  because  that  one  could  not  exist  without  it.’  In 
the  latter  case  we  assert  the  two  parts  to  be  causally  connected; 
but,  in  the  former,  part  and  whole  cannot  be  cau.sally  connected, 
and  the  relation  which  we  assert  to  exist  between  them  may 
exist  even  though  the  parts  are  not  causally  connected  either. 


I] 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


83 


All  the  parts  of  a picture  do  not  have  that  relation  of  mutual 
causal  dependence,  which  certain  parts  of  the  body  have,  and 
yet  the  existence  of  those  which  do  not  have  it  may  be  abso- 
lutely essential  to  the  value  of  the  whole.  The  two  relations 
are  quite  distinct  in  kind,  and  we  cannot  infer  the  existence 
of  the  one  from  that  of  the  other.  It  can,  therefore,  serve  no 
useful  purpose  to  include  them  both  under  the  same  name;  and 
if  we  are  to  say  that  a whole  is  organic  because  its  parts  are  (in 
this  sense)  ‘ means’  to  the  whole,  we  must  not  say  that  it  is  organic 
because  its  parts  are  causally  dependent  on  one  another. 

22.  But  finally  (3)  the  sense  which  has  been  most  prominent 
in  recent  uses  of  the  term  ‘organic  whole’  is  one  whereby  it 
asserts  the  parts  of  such  a whole  to  have  a property  which  the 
parts  of  no  whole  can  possibly  have.  It  is  supposed  that  just 
as  the  whole  would  not  be  what  it  is  but  for  the  existence  of 
the  parts,  so  the  parts  would  not  be  what  they  are  but  for  the 
existence  of  the  whole;  and  this  is  understood  to  mean  not 
merely  that  any  particular  part  could  not  exist  unless  the 
others  existed  too  (which  is  the  case  where  relation  (1)  exists 
between  the  parts),  but  actually  that  the  part  is  no  distinct 
object  of  thought — that  the  whole,  of  which  it  is  a part,  is  in 
its  turn  a part  of  it.  That  this  supposition  is  self-contradictory 
a very  little  reflection  should  be  sufficient  to  shew.  We  may 
admit,  indeed,  that  when  a particular  thing  is  a part  of  a whole, 
it  does  possess  a predicate  which  it  would  not  otherwise  possess 
— namely  that  it  is  a part  of  that  whole.  But  what  cannot  be 
admitted  is  that  this  predicate  alters  the  nature  or  enters  into 
the  definition  of  the  thing  which  has  it.  When  we  think  of 
the  part  itself,  we~mean"jusfr  that  which  we  assert7~in~ this' case, 
to  ^auel^he  predicate  that  it  is  part  of  the  w^hole;  and  the  mere 
assertion  that  it  is  a part  of  the  whole  Tnvolves  that  it  should 
itself  be  distinct  from  that  which  we  assert  of  it.  Otherwise  ^ 
we  contradict  ourselves  since  we  assert  that,  not  it,  but  some- 
thing else — namely  it  together  with  that  which  we  assert  of  it 
— has  the  predicate  which  we  assert  of  it.  In  short,  it  is  obvious 
that  no  part  contains  analytically  the  whole  to  which  it  belongs, 
or  any  other  parts  of  that  w^hole.  The  relation  of  part  to  whole 
is  nut  the  same  as  that  of  whole  to  part ; and  the  very  definition 


34 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTEE  OF  ETHICS 


[chap. 


T 

Ati  rcCjtc 


; 


t'lO 


of  the  latter  is  that  it  does  contain  analytically  that  which  is 
said  to  be  its  part.  And  yet  this  very  self-contradictory  doc- 
trine is  the  chief  mark  which  shews  the  influence  of  Hegel 
upon  modern  philosophy — an  influence  which  pervades  almost 
the  whole  of  orthodox  philosophy.  This  is  what  is  generally 
implied  by  the  cry  against  falsification  by  abstraction;  that  a 
whole  is  always  a part  of  its  part!  ‘If  you  want  to  know  the 
truth  about  a part,’  we  are  told,  ‘you  must  consider  not  that 
part,  but  something  else — namely  the  whole:  nothing  is  true  of 
the  part,  but  only  of  the  whole.’  Yet  plainly  it  must  be  true 
of  the  part  at  least  that  it  is  a part  of  the  whole;  and  it  is 
obvious  that  when  we  say  it  is,  we  do  not  mean  merely  that  the 
whole  is  a part  of  itself.  This  doctrine,  therefore,  that  a part 
can  have  ‘no  meaning  or  significance  apart  from  its  whole’ 
must  be  utterly  rejected.  It  implies  itself  that  the  statement 
‘This  is  a part  of  that  whole’  has  a meaning;  and  in  order  that 
this  may  have  one,  both  subject  and  predicate  must  have  a 
distinct  meaning.  And  it  is  easy  to  see  how  this  false  doctrine 
has  arisen  by  confusion  with  the  two  relations  (1)  and  (2)  which 
may  really  be  properties  of  wholes. 

(a)  The  existence  of  a part  may  be  connected  by  a natural 
or  causal  necessity  with  the  existence  of  the  other  parts  of  its 
whole;  and  further  what  is  a part  of  a whole  and  what  has 
ceased  to  be  such  a part,  although  differing  intrinsically  from 
one  another,  may  be  called  by  one  and  the  same  name.  Thus, 
to  take  a typical  example,  if  an  arm  be  cut  off  from  the  human 
body,  we  still  call  it  an  arm.  Yet  an  arm,  when  it  is  a part  of 
the  body,  undoubtedly  differs  from  a dead  arm:  and  hence  we 
may  easily  be  led  to  say  ‘The  arm  which  is  a part  of  the  body 
would  not  be  what  it  is,  if  it  were  not  such  a part,’  and  to 
think  that  the  contradiction  thus  expressed  is  in  reality  a 
characteristic  of  things.  But,  in  fact,  the  dead  arm  never  was 
a part  of  the  body;  it  is  only  partially  identical  with  the  living 
arm.  Those  parts  of  it  which  are  identical  with  parts  of  the 
living  arm  are  exactly  the  same,  whether  they  belong  to  the 
body  or  not;  and  in  them  we  have  an  undeniable  instance  of 
one  and  the  same  thing  at  one  time  forming  a part,  and  at 
another  not  forming  a part  of  the  presumed  ‘organic  whole.’ 


I] 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OP  ETHICS 


35 


On  the  other  hand  those  properties  which  are  possessed  by  the 
living,  and  not  by  the  dead,  arm,  do  not  exist  in  a changed  form 
in  the  latter:  they  simply  do  not  exist  there  at  all.  By  a causal 
necessity  their  existence  depends  on  their  having  that  relation 
to  the  other  parts  of  the  body  which  we  express  by  saying  that 
they  form  part  of  it.  Yet,  most  certainly,  if  they  ever  did  not 
form  part  of  the  body,  they  would  be  exactly  what  they  are 
when  they  do.  That  they  differ  intrinsically  from  the  properties  j 
of  the  dead  arm  and  that  they  form  part  of  the  body  are 
propositions  not  analytically  related  to  one  another.  There  is 
no  contradiction  in  supposing  them  to  retain  such  intrinsic 
differences  and  yet  not  to  form  part  of  the  body. 

But  (h)  when  we  are  told  that  a living  arm  has  no  meaning 
or  significance  apart  from  the  body  to  which  it  belongs,  a differ- 
ent fallacy  is  also  suggested.  ‘To  have  meaning  or  significance’ 
is  commonly  used  in  the  sense  of  ‘to  have  importance’;  and  this 
again  means  ‘ to  have  value  either  as  a means  or  as  an  end.’ 
Now  it  is  quite  possible  that  even  a living  arm,  apart  from  its 
body,  would  have  no  intrinsic  value  whatever;  although  the 
whole  of  which  it  is  a part  has  great  intrinsic  value  owing  to 
its  presence.  Thus  we  may  easily  come  to  say  that,  as  a part 
of  the  body,  it  has  great  value,  whereas  by  itself  it  would  have 
none;  and  thus  that  its  whole  ‘meaning’  lies  in  its  relation  to 
the  body.  But  in  fact  the  value  in  question  obviously  does  not 
belong  to  it  at  all.  To  have  value  merely  as  a part  is  equivalent 
to  having  no  value  at  all,  but  merely  being  a part  of  that 
which  Las  it.  Owing,  however,  to  neglect  of  this  distinction, 
the  assertion  that  a part  has  value,  as  a part,  which  it  would 
not  otherwise  have,  easily  leads  to  the  assumption  that  it  is  also 
different,  as  a part,  from  what  it  would  otherwise  be;  for  it  is, 
in  fact,  true  that  two  things  which  have  a different  value  must 
also  differ  in  other  respects.  Hence  the  assumption  that  one 
and  the  same  thing,  because  it  is  a part  of  a more  valuable  whole 
at  one  time  than  at  another,  therefore  has  more  intrinsic  value  at 
one  time  than  at  another,  has  encouraged  the  self-contradictory 
belief  that  one  and  the  same  thing  may  be  two  different  things, 
and  that  only  in  one  of  its  forms  is  it  truly  what  it  is. 

For  these  reasons,  I shall,  where  it  seems  convenient,  take 


36 


THE  SUBJECT-MATTER  OF  ETHICS 


[chap.  I 


the  liberty  to  use  the  term  ‘organic’  with  a special  sense.  I 
shall  use  it  to  denote  the  fact  that  a whole  has  an  intrinsic  value 
different  in  amount  from  the  sum  of  the  values  of  its  parts.  I 
shall  use  it  to  denote  this  and  only  this.  The  term  will  not 
imply  any  causal  relation  whatever  between  the  parts  of  the 
whole  in  question.  And  it  will  not  imply  either,  that  the  parts 
are  inconceivable  except  as  parts  of  that  whole,  or  that,  when 
they  form  parts  of  such  a whole,  they  have  a value  different 
from  that  which  they  would  have  if  they  did  not.  Understood 
in  this  special  and  perfectly  definite  sense  the  relation  of  an 
organic  whole  to  its  parts  is  one  of  the  most  important  which 
Ethics  has  to  recognise.  A chief  part  of  that  science  should  be 
occupied  in  comparing  the  relative  values  of  various  goods ; and 
the  grossest  errors  will  be  committed  in  such  comparison  if  it 
be  assumed  that  wherever  two  things  form  a whole,  the  value 
of  that  whole  is  merely  the  sum  of  the  values  of  those  two 
things.  With  this  question  of  ‘organic  wholes,’  then,  we  com- 
plete the  enumeration  of  the  kind  of  problems,  with  which  it  is 
the  business  of  Ethics  to  deal. 

23.  In  this  chapter  I have  endeavoured  to  enforce  the 
following  conclusions.  (1)  The  peculiarity  of  Ethics  is  not  that 
it  investigates  assertions  about  human  conduct,  but  that  it 
investigates  assertions  about  that  property  of  things  which  is 
denoted  by  the  term  ‘good,’  and  the  converse  property  denoted 
by  the  term  ‘bad.’  It  must,  in  order  to  establish  its  conclusions, 
investigate  the  truth  of  all  such  assertions,  except  those  which 
assert  the  relation  of  this  property  only  to  a single  existent 
(1 — 4).  (2)  This  property,  by  reference  to  which  The  subject- 
matter  of  Ethics  must  be  defined,  is  itself  simple  and  indefinable 
(.5 — 14).  And  (3)  all  assertions  about  its  relation  to  other 
things  are  of  two,  and  only  two,  kinds:  they  either  assert  in 
what  degree  things  themselves  possess  this  property,  or  else 
they  assert  causal  relations  between  other  things  and  those 
which  possess  it  (15 — 17).  Finally,  (4)  in  considering  the 
different  degrees  in  which  things  themselves  possess  this  pro- 
perty, we  have  to  take  account  of  the  fact  that  a whole  may 
possess  it  in  a degree  different  from  that  which  is  obtained  by 
summing  the  degrees  in  which  its  parts  possess  it  (18 — 22). 


CHAPTER  II. 

NATURALISTIC  ETHICS, 

24.  It  results  from  the  conclusions  of  Chapter  I,  that  all 
ethical  questions  fall  under  one  or  other  of  three  classes.  The 
first  class  contains  but  one  question — the  question  What  is  the 
nature  of  that  peculiar  predicate,  the  relation  of  which  to  other 
things  constitutes  the  object  of  all  other  ethical  investigations? 
or,  in  other  words.  What  is  meant  by  good?  This  first  question 
I have  already  attempted  to  answer.  The  peculiar  predicate, 
by  reference  to  which  the  sphere  of  Ethics  must  be  defined,  is 
simple,  unanalysable,  indefinable.  There  remain  two  classes  of 
questions  with  regard  to  the  relation  of  this  predicate  to  other 
things.  We  may  ask  either  (1)  To  what  things  and  in  what 
degree  does  this  predicate  directly  attach?  What  things  are 
good  in  themselves?  or  (2)  By  what  means  shall  we  be  able 
to  make  what  exists  in  the  world  as  good  as  possible?  What 
causal  relations  hold  between  what  is  best  in  itself  and  other 
things  ? 

In  this  and  the  two  following  chapters,  I propose  to  discuss 
certain  theories,  which  offer  us  an  answer  to  the  question  What 
is  good  in  itself?  I say  advisedly — an  answer:  for  these  theories 
are  all  characterised  by  the  fact  that,  if  true,  they  would  simplify 
the  study  of  Ethics  very  much.  They  all  hold  that  there  is  only 
one  kind  of  fact,  of  which  the  existence  has  any  value  at  all. 
But  they  all  also  possess  another  characteristic,  which  is  my 
reason  for  grouping  them  together  and  treating  them  first: 
namely  that  the  main  reason  why  the  single  kind  of  fact  they 
name  has  been  held  to  define  the  sole  good,  is  that  it  has  been 


3 


M 


38 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


[chap. 


held  to  define  what  is  meant  by  ‘good’  itself.  In  other  words 
they  are  all  theories  of  the  end  or  ideal,  the  adoption  of  which 
has  been  chiefly  caused  by  the  commission  of  what  I have  called 
the  naturalistic  fallacy:  they  all  confuse  the  first  and  second  of 
the  three  possible  questions  which  Ethics  can  ask.  It  is,  indeed, 
this  fact  which  explains  their  contention  that  only  a single  kind 
of  thing  is  good.  That  a thing  should  be  good,  it  has  been 
thought,  means  that  it  possesses  this  single  property:  and  hence 
(it  is  thought)  only  what  possesses  this  property  is  good.  The 
inference  seems  very  natural;  and  yet  what  is  meant  by  it  is 
self-contradictory.  For  those  who  make  it  fail  to  perceive  that 
their  conclusion  ‘what  possesses  this  property  is  good’  is  a 
significant  proposition:  that  it  does  not  mean  either  ‘what 
possesses  this  property,  possesses  this  property’  or  ‘the  word 
“good”  denotes  that  a thing  possesses  this  property.’  And  yet, 
if  it  does  not  mean  one  or  other  of  these  two  things,  the  inference 
contradicts  its  own  premise. 

I propose,  therefore,  to  discuss  certain  theories  of  what  is 
good  in  itself,  which  are  based  on  the  naturalistic  fallacy,  in  the 
sense  that  the  commission  of  this  fallacy  has  been  the  main 
cause  of  their  wide  acceptance.  The  discussion  will  be  designed 
both  (1)  further  to  illustrate  the  fact  that  the  naturalistic 
fallacy  is  a fallacy,  or,  in  other  words,  that  we  are  all  aware  of  a 
certain  simple  quality,  which  (and  not  anything  else)  is  what  we 
mainly  mean  by  the  term  ‘good’;  and  (2)  to  shew  that  not  one, 
but  many  different  things,  possess  this  property.  For  I cannot 
hope  to  recommend  the  doctrine  that  things  which  are  good  do 
not  owe  their  goodness  to  their  common  possession  of  any  other 
property,  without  a criticism  of  the  main  doctrines,  opposed  to 
this,  whose  power  to  recommend  themselves  is  proved  by  their 
wide  prevalence. 

25.  The  theories  I propose  to  discuss  may  be  conveniently 
divided  into  two  groups.  The  naturalistic  fallacy  always  implies 
that  when  we  think  ‘This  is  good,’  what  we  are  thinking  is  that 
the  thing  in  question  bears  a definite  relation  to  some  one  other 
thing.  But  this  one  thing,  by  reference  to  which  good  is  defined, 
may  be  either  what  I may  call  a natural  object — something  of 
which  the  existence  is  admittedly  an  object  of  experience — or 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


39 


n] 

else  it  may  be  an  object  which  is  only  inferred  to  exist  in  a 
supersensible  real  world.  These  two  types  of  ethical  theory  I 
propose  to  treat  separately.  Theories  of  the  second  type  may 
conveniently  be  called  ‘metaphysical/  and  I shall  postpone  con- 
sideration of  them  till  Chapter  IV.  In  this  and  the  following 
chapter,  on  the  other  hand,  I shall  deal  with  theories  which  owe 
their  prevalence  to  the  supposition  that  good  can  be  defined  by 
reference  to  a natural  object',  and  these  are  what  I mean  by  the 
name,  which  gives  the  title  to  this  chapter,  ‘Naturalistic  Ethics.’ 
It  should  be  observed  that  the  fallacy,  by  reference  to  which  I 
define  ‘Metaphysical  Ethics,’  is  the  same  in  kind;  and  I give  it 
but  one  name,  the  naturalistic  fallacy.  But  when  we  regard 
the  ethical  theories  recommended  by  this  fallacy,  it  seems  con- 
venient to  distinguish  those  which  consider  goodness  to  consist 
in  a relation  to  something  which  exists  here  and  now,  from  those 
which  do  not.  According  to  the  former.  Ethics  is  an  empirical 
or  positive  science:  its  conclusions  could  be  all  established  by 
means  of  empirical  observation  and  induction.  But  this  is  not 
the  case  with  Metaphysical  Ethics.  There  is,  therefore,  a 
marked  distinction  between  these  two  groups  of  ethical  theories 
based  on  the  same  fallacy.  And  within  Naturalistic  theories, 
too,  a convenient  division  may  also  be  made.  There  is  one 
natural  object,  namely  pleasure,  which  has  perhaps  been  as 
frequently  held  to  be  the  sole  good  as  all  the  rest  put  together. 
And  there  is,  moreover,  a further  reason  for  treating  Hedonism 
separately.  That  doctrine  has,  I think,  as  plainly  as  any  other, 
owed  its  prevalence  to  the  naturalistic  fallacy;  but  it  has  had  a 
singular  fate  in  that  the  writer,  who  first  clearly  exposed  the 
fallacy  of  the  naturalistic  arguments  by  which  it  had  been 
attempted  to  prove  that  pleasure  was  the  sole  good,  has  main- 
tained that  nevertheless  it  is  the  sole  good.  I propose,  there- 
fore, to  divide  my  discussion  of  Hedonism  from  that  of  other 
Naturalistic  theories;  treating  of  Naturalistic  Ethics  in  general 
in  this  chapter,  and  of  Hedonism,  in  particular,  in  the  next. 

26.  The  subject  of  the  present  chapter  is,  then,  ethical 
theories  which  declare  that  no  intrinsic  value  is  to  be  found 
except  in  the  possession  of  some  one  natural  property,  other  than 
pleasure;  and  which  declare  this  because  it  is  supposed  that  to 


3-2 


40 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


[chap. 


be  ‘good’  means  to  possess  the  property  in  question.  Such 
theories  I call  ‘Naturalistic.’  I have  thus  appropriated  the 
name  Naturalism  to  a particular  method  of  approaching  Ethics — 
a method  which,  strictly  understood,  is  inconsistent  with  the 
possibility  of  any  Ethics  whatsoever.  This  method  consists  in 
substituting  for  ‘good’  some  one  property  of  a natural  object  or 
of  a collection  of  natural  objects;  and  in  thus  replacing  Ethics 
by  some  one  of  the  natural  sciences.  In  general,  the  science 
thus  substituted  is  one  of  the  sciences  specially  concerned  with 
man,  owing  to  the  general  mistake  (for  such  I hold  it  to  be)  of 
regarding  the  matter  of  Ethics  as  confined  to  human  conduct. 
In  general.  Psychology  has  been  the  science  substituted,  as  by 
J.  S.  Mill ; or  Sociology,  as  by  Professor  Clifford,  and  other  modern 
writers.  But  any  other  science  might  equally  well  be  substi- 
tuted. It  is  the  same  fallacy  which  is  implied,  when  Professor 
Tyndall  recommends  us  to  ‘conform  to  the  laws  of  matter’:  and 
here  the  science  which  it  is  proposed  to  substitute  for  Ethics  is 
simply  Physics.  The  name  then  is  perfectly  general;  for,  no 
matter  what  the  something  is  that  good  is  held  to  mean,  the 
theory  is  still  Naturalism.  Whether  good  be  defined  as  yellow 
or  green  or  blue,  as  loud  or  soft,  as  round  or  square,  as  sweet  or 
bitter,  as  productive  of  life  or  productive  of  pleasure,  as  willed  or 
desired  or  felt:  whichever  of  these  or  of  any  other  object  in  the 
world,  good  may  be  held  to  mean,  the  theory,  which  holds  it  to 
mean  them,  will  be  a naturalistic  theory.  I have  called  such 
theories  naturalistic  because  all  of  these  terms  denote  properties, 
simple  or  complex,  of  some  simple  or  complex  natural  object; 
and,  before  I proceed  to  consider  them,  it  will  be  well  to  define 
what  is  meant  by  ‘nature’  and  by  ‘natural  objects.’ 

By  ‘nature,’  then,  I do  mean  and  have  meant  that  which  is 
the  subject-matter  of  the  natural  sciences  and  also  of  psychology. 
It  may  be  said  to  include  all  that  has  existed,  does  exist,  or  will 
exist  in  time.  If  we  consider  whether  any  object  is  of  such  a 
nature  that  it  may  be  said  to  exist  now,  to  have  existed,  or  to 
be  about  to  exist,  then  we  may  know  that  that  object  is  a 
natural  object,  and  that  nothing,  of  which  this  is  not  true,  is  a 
natural  object.  Thus,  for  instance,  of  our  minds  we  should  say 
that  they  did  exist  yesterday,  that  they  do  exist  to-day,  and 


n] 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


41 


probably  will  exist  in  a minute  or  two.  We  shall  say  that  we  had 
thoughts  yesterday,  which  have  ceased  to  exist  now,  although 
their  effects  may  remain:  and  in  so  far  as  those  thoughts  did 
exist,  they  too  are  natural  objects. 

There  is,  indeed,  no  difficulty  about  the  ‘objects’  themselves, 
in  the  sense  in  which  I have  just  used  the  term.  It  is  easy  to 
say  which  of  them  are  natural,  and  which  (if  any)  are  not 
natural.  But  when  we  begin  to  consider  the  properties  of 
objects,  then  I fear  the  problem  is  more  difficult.  Which 
among  the  properties  of  natural  objects  are  natural  properties 
and  which  are  not?  For  I do  not  deny  that  good  is  a property 
of  certain  natural  objects:  certain  of  them,  I think,  are  good; 
and  yet  I have  said  that  ‘good’  itself  is  not  a natural  property. 
Well,  my  test  for  these  too  also  concerns  their  existence  in 
time.  Can  we  imagine  ‘good’  as  existing  hy  itself  in  time, 
and  not  merely  as  a property  of  some  natural  object?  For 
myself,  I cannot  so  imagine  it,  whereas  with  the  greater  number 
of  properties  of  objects — those  which  I call  the  natural 
properties — their  existence  does  seem  to  me  to  be  independent 
of  the  existence  of  those  objects.  They  are,  in  fact,  rather 
parts  of  which  the  object  is  made  up  than  mere  predicates 
which  attach  to  it.  If  they  were  all  taken  away,  no  object 
would  be  left,  not  even  a bare  substance:  for  they  are  in 
themselves  substantial  and  give  to  the  object  all  the  substance 
that  it  has.  But  this  is  not  so  with  good.  If  indeed  good 
were  a feeling,  as  some  would  have  us  believe,  then  it  would 
exist  in  time.  But  that  is  why  to  call  it  so  is  to  commit 
the  naturalistic  fallacy.  It  will  always  remain  pertinent  to  ask, 
whether  the  feeling  itself  is  good;  and  if  so,  then  good  cannot 
itself  be  identical  with  any  feeling. 

27.  Those  theories  of  Ethics,  then,  are  ‘naturalistic’  which 
declare  the  sole  good  to  consist  in  some  one  property  of  things, 
which  exists  in  time;  and  which  do  so  because  they  suppose 
that  ‘good’  itself  can  be  defined  by  reference  to  such  a property. 

> And  we  may  now  proceed  to  consider  such  theories. 

And,  first  of  all,  one  of  the  most  famous  of  ethical  maxims 
is  that  which  recommends  a ‘life  according  to  nature.’  That 
was  the  principle  of  the  Stoic  Ethics;  but,  since  their  Ethics 


42 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


[chap. 


has  some  claim  to  be  called  metaphysical,  I shall  not  attempt 
to  deal  with  it  here.  But  the  same  phrase  reappears  in 
Rousseau;  and  it  is  not  unfrequently  maintained  even  now 
that  what  we  ought  to  do  is  to  live  naturally.  Now  let  us 
examine  this  contention  in  its  general  form.  It  is  obvious, 
in  the  first  place,  that  we  cannot  say  that  everything  natural  is 
good,  except  perhaps  in  virtue  of  some  metaphysical  theory, 
such  as  I shall  deal  with  later.  If  everything  natural  is 
equally  good,  then  certainly  Ethics,  as  it  is  ordinarily  under- 
stood, disappears:  for  nothing  is  more  certain,  from  an  ethical 
point  of  view,  than  that  some  things  are  bad  and  others  good; 
the  object  of  Ethics  is,  indeed,  in  chief  part,  to  give  you 
general  rules  whereby  you  may  avoid  the  one  and  secure 
the  other.  What,  then,  does  ‘natural’  mean,  in  this  advice 
to  live  naturally,  since  it  obviously  cannot  apply  to  everything 
that  is  natural? 

The  phrase  seems  to  point  to  a vague  notion  that  there  is 
some  such  thing  as  natural  good;  to  a belief  that  Nature 
may  be  said  to  fix  and  decide  what  shall  be  good,  just  as 
she  fixes  and  decides  what  shall  exist.  For  instance,  it  may 
be  supposed  that  ‘health’  is  susceptible  of  a natural  definition, 
that  Nature  has  fixed  what  health  shall  be:  and  health,  it  may 
be  said,  is  obviously  good;  hence  in  this  case  Nature  has 
decided  the  matter;  we  have  only  to  go  to  her  and  ask  her 
what  health  is,  and  we  shall  know  what  is  good:  we  shall 
have  based  an  ethics  upon  science.  But  what  is  this  natural 
definition  of  health?  I can  only  conceive  that  health  should 
be  defined  in  natural  terms  as  the  normal  state  of  an  organism; 
for  undoubtedly  disease  is  also  a natural  product.  To  say 
that  health  is  what  is  preserved  by  evolution,  and  what  itself 
tends  to  preserve,  in  the  struggle  for  existence,  the  organism 
which  possesses  it,  comes  to  the  same  thing:  for  the  point 
of  evolution  is  that  it  pretends  to  give  a causal  explanation 
of  why  some  forms  of  life  are  normal  and  others  are  abnormal; 
it  explains  the  origin  of  species.  When  therefore  we  are  told 
that  health  is  natural,  we  may  presume  that  what  is  meant 
is  that  it  is  normal;  and  that  when  we  are  told  to  pursue 
health  as  a natural  end,  what  is  implied  is  that  the  normal 


n] 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


43 


must  be  good.  But  is  it  so  obvious  that  the  normal  must 
be  good?  Is  it  really  obvious  that  health,  for  instance,  is 
good?  Was  the  excellence  of  Socrates  or  of  Shakespeare 
normal?  Was  it  not  rather  abnormal,  extraordinary?  It  is,  I 
think,  obvious  in  the  first  place,  that  not  all  that  is  good  is 
normal;  that,  on  the  contrary,  the  abnormal  is  often  better 
than  the  normal:  peculiar  excellence,  as  well  as  peculiar 
viciousness,  must  obviously  be  not  normal  but  abnormal.  Yet 
it  may  be  said  that  nevertheless  the  normal  is  good;  and  I 
myself  am  not  prepared  to  dispute  that  health  is  good.  What 
I contend  is  that  this  must  not  be  taken  to  be  obvious;  that 
it  must  be  regarded  as  an  open  question.  To  declare  it  to  be 
obvious  is  to  suggest  the  naturalistic  fallacy:  just  as,  in  some 
recent  books,  a proof  that  genius  is  diseased,  abnormal,  has 
been  used  in  order  to  suggest  that  genius  ought  not  to  be 
encouraged.  Such  reasoning  is  fallacious,  and  dangerously 
fallacious.  The  fact  is  that  in  the  very  words  ‘health’  and 
‘disease’  we  do  commonly  include  the  notion  that  the  one 
is  good  and  the  other  bad.  But,  when  a so-called  scientific 
definition  of  them  is  attempted,  a definition  in  natural  terms, 
the  only  one  possible  is  that  by  way  of  ‘normal’  and  ‘abnormal.’ 
Now,  it  is  easy  to  prove  that  some  things  commonly  thought 
excellent  are  abnormal;  and  it  follows  that  they  are  diseased. 
But  it  does  not  follow,  except  by  virtue  of  the  naturalistic 
fallacy,  that  those  things,  commonly  thought  good,  are  therefore 
bad.  All  that  has  really  been  shewn  is  that  in  some  cases  there 
is  a conflict  between  the  common  judgment  that  genius  is 
good,  and  the  common  judgment  that  health  is  good.  It  is  not 
sufficiently  recognised  that  the  latter  judgment  has  not  a whit 
more  warrant  for  its  truth  than  the  former;  that  both  are 
perfectly  open  questions.  It  may  be  true,  indeed,  that  by 
‘healthy’  we  do  commonly  imply  ‘good’;  but  that  only  shews 
that  when  we  so  use  the  word,  we  do  not  mean  the  same  thing 
by  it  as  the  thing  which  is  meant  in  medical  science.  That 
health,  when  the  word  is  used  to  denote  something  good,  is 
good,  goes  no  way  at  all  to  shew  that  health,  when  the  word  is 
used  to  denote  something  normal,  is  also  good.  We  might 
as  well  say  that,  because  ‘bull’  denotes  an  Irish  joke  and 


44 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


[chap. 


also  a certain  animal,  the  joke  and  the  animal  must  be  the 
same  thing.  We  must  not,  therefore,  be  frightened  by  the 
assertion  that  a thing  is  natural  into  the  admission  that  it 
is  good;  good  does  not,  by  definition,  mean  anything  that  is 
natural;  and  it  is  therefore  always  an  open  question  whether 
anything  that  is  natural  is  good. 

28.  But  there  is  another  slightly  different  sense  in  which 
the  word  ‘natural’  is  used  with  an  implication  that  it  denotes 
something  good.  This  is  when  we  speak  of  natural  affections, 
or  unnatural  crimes  and  vices.  Here  the  meaning  seems  to  be, 
not  so  much  that  the  action  or  feeling  in  question  is  normal  or 
abnormal,  as  that  it  is  necessary.  It  is  in  this  connection  that 
we  are  advised  to  imitate  savages  and  beasts.  Curious  advice 
certainly;  but,  of  course,  there  may  be  something  in  it.  I am 
not  here  concerned  to  enquire  under  what  circumstances  some 
of  us  might  with  advantage  take  a lesson  from  the  cow.  I have 
really  no  doubt  that  such  exist.  What  I am  concerned  with  is 
a certain  kind  of  reason,  which  I think  is  sometimes  used  to 
support  this  doctrine — a naturalistic  reason.  The  notion  some- 
times Ipng  at  the  bottom  of  the  minds  of  preachers  of  this 
gospel  is  that  we  cannot  improve  on  nature.  This  notion  is 
certainly  true,  in  the  sense  that  anything  we  can  do,  that  may 
be  better  than  the  present  state  of  things,  will  be  a natural 
product.  But  that  is  not  what  is  meant  by  this  phrase; 
nature  is  again  used  to  mean  a mere  part  of  nature;  only  this 
time  the  part  meant  is  not  so  much  the  normal  as  an  arbitrary 
minimum  of  what  is  necessary  for  life.  And  when  this  mini- 
mum is  recommended  as  ‘natural’ — as  the  way  of  life  to  which 
Nature  points  her  finger — then  the  naturalistic  fallacy  is  used. 
Against  this  position  I wish  only  to  point  out  that  though 
the  performance  of  certain  acts,  not  in  themselves  desirable, 
may  be  excused  as  necessary  means  to  the  preservation  of  life, 
that  is  no  reason  for  praising  them,  or  advising  us  to  limit 
ourselves  to  those  simple  actions  which  are  necessary,  if  it  is 
possible  for  us  to  improve  our  condition  even  at  the  expense 
of  doing  what  is  in  this  sense  unnecessary.  Nature  does 
indeed  set  limits  to  what  is  possible;  she  does  control  the 
means  we  have  at  our  disposal  for  obtaining  what  is  good; 


n] 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


45 


and  of  this  fact,  practical  Ethics,  as  we  shall  see  later,  must 
certainly  take  account:  but  when  she  is  supposed  to  have  a 
preference  for  what  is  necessary,  what  is  necessary  means  only 
what  is  necessary  to  obtain  a certain  end,  presupposed  as  the 
highest  good;  and  what  the  highest  good  is  Nature  cannot 
determine.  Why  should  we  suppose  that  what  is  merely 
necessary  to  life  is  ipso  facto  better  than  what  is  necessary  to 
the  study  of  metaphysics,  useless  as  that  study  may  appear? 
It  may  be  that  life  is  only  worth  living,  because  it  enables 
us  to  study  metaphysics — is  a necessary  means  thereto.  The 
fallacy  of  this  argument  from  nature  has  been  discovered  as 
long  ago  as  Lucian.  ‘I  was  almost  inclined  to  laugh,’  says 
Callicratidas,  in  one  of  the  dialogues  imputed  to  him^,  ‘just 
now,  when  Charicles  was  praising  irrational  brutes  and  the 
savagery  of  the  Scythians:  in  the  heat  of  his  argument  he  was 
almost  repenting  that  he  was  born  a Greek.  What  wonder  if 
lions  and  bears  and  pigs  do  not  act  as  I was  proposing?  That 
which  reasoning  would  fairly  lead  a man  to  choose,  cannot  be 
had  by  creatures  that  do  not  reason,  simply  because  they  are  so 
stupid.  If  Prometheus  or  some  other  god  had  given  each  of 
them  the  intelligence  of  a man,  then  they  would  not  have  lived 
in  deserts  and  mountains  nor  fed  on  one  another.  They  would 
have  built  temples  just  as  we  do,  each  would  have  lived  in  the 
centre  of  his  family,  and  they  would  have  formed  a nation 
bound  by  mutual  laws.  Is  it  anything  surprising  that  brutes, 
who  have  had  the  misfortune  to  be  unable  to  obtain  by  fore- 
thought any  of  the  goods,  with  which  reasoning  provides  us, 
should  have  missed  love  too?  Lions  do  not  love;  but  neither 
do  they  philosophise;  bears  do  not  love;  but  the  reason  is  they 
do  not  know  the  sweets  of  friendship.  It  is  only  men,  who,  by 
their  wisdom  and  their  knowledge,  after  many  trials,  have 
chosen  what  is  best.’ 

29.  To  argue  that  a thing  is  good  because  it  is  ‘natural,’  or 
bad  because  it  is  ‘unnatural,’  in  these  common  senses  of  the 
term,  is  therefore  certainly  fallacious:  and  yet  such  arguments 
are  very  frequently  used.  But  they  do  not  commonly  pretend 
to  give  a systematic  theory  of  Ethics.  Among  attempts  to 
1 'E/3(jres,  436 — 7. 


46 


NATUEALISTIC  ETHICS 


[chap. 


systematise  an  appeal  to  nature,  that  which  is  now  most  preva- 
lent is  to  be  found  in  the  application  to  ethical  questions  of  the 
term  ‘Evolution’ — in  the  ethical  doctrines  which  have  been 
called  ‘Evolutionistic.’  These  doctrines  are  those  which  main- 
tain that  the  course  of  ‘evolution,’  while  it  shews  us  the  direction 
in  which  we  are  developing,  thereby  and  for  that  reason  shews 
us  the  direction  in  which  we  ought  to  develop.  Writers,  who 
maintain  such  a doctrine,  are  at  present  very  numerous  and 
very  popular;  and  I propose  to  take  as  my  example  the  writer, 
who  is  perhaps  the  best  known  of  them  all — Mr  Herbert 
Spencer.  Mr  Spencer’s  doctrine,  it  must  be  owned,  does  not 
offer  the  clearest  example  of  the  naturalistic  fallacy  as  used  in 
support  of  Evolutionistic  Ethics.  A clearer  example  might  be 
found  in  the  doctrine  of  Guyauk  a writer  who  has  lately  had 
considerable  vogue  in  France,  but  who  is  not  so  well  known  as 
Spencer.  Guyau  might  almost  be  called  a disciple  of  Spencer; 
he  is  frankly  evolutionistic,  and  frankly  naturalistic;  and  I may 
mention  that  he  does  not  seem  to  think  that  he  differs  from 
Spencer  by  reason  of  his  naturalism.  The  point  in  which  he 
has  criticised  Spencer  concerns  the  question  how  far  the  ends 
of  ‘pleasure’  and  of  ‘increased  life’  coincide  as  motives  and 
means  to  the  attainment  of  the  ideal:  he  does  not  seem  to 
think  that  he  differs  from  Spencer  in  the  fundamental  principle 
that  the  ideal  is  ‘ Quantity  of  life,  measured  in  breadth  as  well 
as  in  length,’  or,  as  Guyau  says,  ‘Expansion  and  intensity  of 
life’;  nor  in  the  naturalistic  reason  which  he  gives  for  this 
principle.  And  I am  not  sure  that  he  does  differ  from  Spencer 
in  these  points.  Spencer  does,  as  I shall  shew,  use  the  natural- 
istic fallacy  in  details;  but  with  regard  to  his  fundamental 
principles,  the  following  doubts  occur;  Is  he  fundamentally  a 
Hedonist  ? And,  if  so,  is  he  a naturalistic  Hedonist?  In  that  case 
he  would  better  have  been  treated  in  my  next  chapter.  Does  he 
hold  that  a tendency  to  increase  quantity  of  life  is  merely  a cri- 
terion of  good  conduct?  Or  does  he  hold  that  such  increase  of 
life  is  marked  out  by  nature  as  an  end  at  which  we  ought  to  aim? 

I think  his  language  in  various  places  would  give  colour  to 

r See  Esquisse  d'une  Morale  sans  Obligation  ni  Sanction,  par  M.  Guyau. 

edition.  Paris  : P.  Alcan,  1896. 


n] 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


47 


all  these  hypotheses;  though  some  of  them  are  mutually  incon- 
sistent. I will  try  to  discuss  the  main  points. 

30.  The  modern  vogue  of  ‘Evolution’  is  chiefly  owing  to 
Dar^vin’s  investigations  as  to  the  origin  of  species.  Darwin 
formed  a strictly  biological  hypothesis  as  to  the  manner  in  which 
certain  forms  of  animal  life  became  established,  while  others 
died  out  and  disappeared.  His  theory  was  that  this  might 
be  accounted  for,  partly  at  least,  in  the  following  way.  When 
certain  varieties  occurred  (the  cause  of  their  occurrence  is  still, 
in  the  main,  unknown),  it  might  be  that  some  of  the  points,  in 
which  they  varied  from  their  parent  species  or  from  other 
species  then  existing,  made  them  better  able  to  persist  in  the 
environment  in  which  they  found  themselves — less  liable  to  be 
killed  off.  They  might,  for  instance,  be  better  able  to  endure 
the  cold  or  heat  or  changes  of  the  climate;  better  able  to  find 
nourishment  from  what  surrounded  them;  better  able  to  escape 
from  or  resist  other  species  which  fed  upon  them ; better  fitted 
to  attract  or  to  master  the  other  sex.  Being  thus  less  liable  to 
die,  their  numbers  relatively  to  other  species  would  increase; 
and  that  very  increase  in  their  numbers  might  tend  towards  the 
extinction  of  those  other  species.  This  theory,  to  which  Darwin 
gave  the  name  ‘Natural  Selection,’  was  also  called  the  theory 
of  survival  of  the  fittest.  The  natural  process  which  it  thus 
described  was  called  evolution.  It  was  very  natural  to  suppose 
that  evolution  meant  evolution  from  what  was  lower  into  what 
was  higher;  in  fact  it  was  observed  that  at  least  one  species, 
commonly  called  higher — the  species  man — had  so  survived,  and 
among  men  again  it  was  supposed  that  the  higher  races,  our- 
selves for  example,  had  shewn  a tendency  to  survive  the  lower,  ! 
such  as  the  North  American  Indians.  We  can  kill  them  more  j 
easily  than  they  can  kill  us.  The  doctrine  of  evolution  was  j 
then  represented  as  an  explanation  of  how  the  higher  species ' 
survives  the  lower.  Spencer,  for  example,  constantly  uses 
‘more  evolved’  as  equivalent  to  ‘higher.’  But  it  is  to  be  noted 
that  this  forms  no  part  of  Darwin’s  scientific  theory.  That 
theory  will  explain,  equally  well,  how  by  an  alteration  in  the 
environment  (the  gradual  cooling  of  the  earth,  for  example) 
quite  a different  species  from  man,  a species  which  we  think 


48 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


[chap. 


infinitely  lower,  might  survive  us.  The  survival  of  the  fittest 
does  not  mean,  as  one  might  suppose,  the  survival  of  what  is 
fittest  to  fulfil  a good  purpose — best  adapted  to  a good  end:  at 
the  last,  it  means  merely  the  survival  of  the  fittest  to  survive; 
and  the  value  of  the  scientific  theory,  and  it  is  a theory  of  great 
value,  just  consists  in  shewing  what  are  the  causes  which  pro- 
duce certain  biological  effects.  Whether  these  effects  are  good 
or  bad,  it  cannot  pretend  to  judge. 

31.  But  now  let  us  hear  what  Mr  Spencer  says  about 
the  application  of  Evolution  to  Ethics. 

‘I  recur,’  he  saysh  ‘to  the  main  proposition  set  forth  in 
these  two  chapters,  which  has,  I think,  been  fully  justified 
Guided  by  the  truth  that  as  the  conduct  with  which  Ethics 
deals  is  part  of  conduct  at  large,  conduct  at  large  must  be 
generally  understood  before  this  part  can  be  specially  under- 
stood; and  guided  by  the  further  truth  that  to  understand 
conduct  at  large  we  must  understand  the  evolution  of  conduct; 
we  have  been  led  to  see  that  Ethics  has  for  its  subject-matter, 
that  form  which  universal  conduct  assumes  during  the  last 
stages  of  its  evolution.  We  have  also  concluded  that  these  last 
stages  in  the  evolution  of  conduct  are  those  displayed  by 
the  highest^  type  of  being  when  he  is  forced,  by  increase  of 
numbers,  to  live  more  and  more  in  presence  of  his  fellows. 
And  there  has  followed  the  corollary  that  conduct  gains  ethical 
sanction^  in  proportion  as  the  activities,  becoming  less  and  less 
militant  and  more  and  more  industrial,  are  such  as  do  not 
necessitate  mutual  injury  or  hindrance,  but  consist  with,  and 
are  furthered  by,  co-operation  and  mutual  aid. 

‘These  implications  of  the  Evolution- Hypothesis,  we  shall 
now  see  harmonize  with  the  leading  moral  ideas  men  have 
otherwise  reached.’ 

Now,  if  we  are  to  take  the  last  sentence  strictly — if  the 
propositions  which  precede  it  are  really  thought  by  Mr  Spencer 
to  be  implications  of  the  Evolution-Hypothesis — there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  Mr  Spencer  has  committed  the  naturalistic 
fallacy.  All  that  the  Evolution-Hypothesis  tells  us  is  that 
certain  kinds  of  conduct  are  more  evolved  than  others;  and 

* Data  of  Ethics,  Chap,  ii,  § 7,  ad  fin.  * The  italics  are  mine. 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


49 


n] 


this  is,  in  fact,  all  that  Mr  Spencer  has  attempted  to  prove 
in  the  two  chapters  concerned.  Yet  he  tells  us  that  one  of  the 
things  it  has  proved  i-s  that  conduct  gains  ethical  sanction  in 
proportion  as  it  displays  certain  characteristics.  What  he 
has  tried  to  prove  is  only  that,  in  proportion  as  it  displays 
those  characteristics,  it  is  more  evolved.  It  is  plain,  then,  that 
Mr  Spencer  identifies  the  gaining  of  ethical  sanction  with  the 
being  more  evolved:  this  follows  strictly  from  his  words.  But 
Mr  Spencer’s  language  is  extremely  loose ; and  we  shall  presently 
see  that  he  seems  to  regard  the  view  it  here  implies  as  false. 
We  cannot,  therefore,  take  it  as  Mr  Spencer’s  definite  view  that 
‘better’  means  nothing  but  ‘more  evolved’;  or  even  that  what 
is  ‘more  evolved’  is  therefore  ‘better.’  But  we  are  entitled 
to  urge  that  he  is  influenced  by  these  views,  and  therefore 
by  the  naturalistic  fallacy.  It  is  only  by  the  assumption  of 
such  influence  that  we  can  explain  his  confusion  as  to  what 
he  has  really  proved,  and  the  absence  of  any  attempt  to  prove, 
what  he  says  he  has  proved,  that  conduct  which  is  more  evolved 
is  better.  We  shall  look  in  vain  for  any  attempt  to  shew  that 
‘ethical  sanction’  is  in  proportion  to  ‘evolution,’  or  that  it  is  the 
‘highest’  type  of  being  which  displays  the  most  evolved  conduct; 
yet  Mr  Spencer  concludes  that  this  is  the  case.  It  is  only  fair 
to  assume  that  he  is  not  sufficiently  conscious  how  much 
these  propositions  stand  in  need  of  proof — what  a very  different 
thing  is  being  ‘more  evolved’  from  being  ‘higher’  or  ‘better.’ 
It  may,  of  course,  be  true  that  what  is  more  evolved  is  also 
higher  and  better.  But  Mr  Spencer  does  not  seem  aware 
that  to  assert  the  one  is  in  any  case  not  the  same  thing  as 
to  assert  the  other.  He  argues  at  length  that  certain  kinds 
of  conduct  are  ‘more  evolved,’  and  then  informs  us  that 
he  has  proved  them  to  gain  ethical  sanction  in  proportion, 
without  any  warning  that  he  has  omitted  the  most  essential 
step  in  such  a proof.  Surely  this  is  sufficient  evidence  that  he 
does  not  see  how  essential  that  step  is. 

32.  W’hatever  be  the  degree  of  Mr  Spencer’s  own  guilt, 
what  has  just  been  said  will  serve  to  illustrate  the  kind  of 
fallacy  which  is  constantly  committed  by  those  who  profess 
to  ‘base’  Ethics  on  Evolution.  But  we  must  hasten  to  add 


50 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


[chap. 


that  the  view  which  Mr  Spencer  elsewhere  most  emphatically 
recommends  is  an  utterly  different  one.  It  will  be  useful 
briefly  to  deal  with  this,  in  order  that  no  injustice  may  be  done 
to  Mr  Spencer.  The  discussion  will  he  instructive  partly  from 
the  lack  of  clearness,  which  Mr  Spencer  displays,  as  to  the 
relation  of  this  view  to  the  ‘evolutionistic’  one  just  described; 
and  partly  because  there  is  reason  to  suspect  that  in  this  view 
also  he  is  influenced  by  the  naturalistic  fallacy. 

We  have  seen  that,  at  the  end  of  his  second  chapter, 
Mr  Spencer  seems  to  announce  that  he  has  already  proved 
certain  characteristics  of  conduct  to  be  a measure  of  its  ethical 
value.  He  seems  to  think  that  he  has  proved  this  merely  by 
considering  the  evolution  of  conduct;  and  he  has  certainly  not 
given  any  such  proof,  unless  we  are  to  understand  that  ‘more 
evolved’  is  a mere  synonym  for  ‘ethically  better.’  He  now 
promises  merely  to  confirm  this  certain  conclusion  by  shewing 
that  it  ‘harmonizes  with  the  leading  moral  ideas  men  have 
otherwise  reached.’  But,  when  we  turn  to  his  third  chapter,  we 
find  that  what  he  actually  does  is  something  quite  different. 
He  here  asserts  that  to  establish  the  conclusion  ‘Conduct  is 
better  in  proportion  as  it  is  more  evolved’  an  entirely  new 
proof  is  necessary.  That  conclusion  will  be  false,  unless  a 
certain  proposition,  of  which  we  have  heard  nothing  so  far,  is 
true — unless  it  be  true  that  life  is  pleasant  on  the  whole.  And 
the  ethical  proposition,  for  which  he  claims  the  support  of  the 
‘leading  moral  ideas’  of  mankind,  turns  out  to  be  that  ‘life  is 
good  or  bad,  according  as  it  does,  or  does  not,  bring  a surplus 
of  agreeable  feeling’  (§  10).  Here,  then,  Mr  Spencer  appears, 
not  as  an  Evolutionist,  but  as  a Hedonist,  in  Ethics.  No 
conduct  is  better,  because  it  is  more  evolved.  Degree  of 
evolution  can  at  most  be  a criterion  of  ethical  value;  and  it 
will  only  be  that,  if  we  can  prove  the  extremely  difficult 
generalisation  that  the  more  evolved  is  always,  on  the  whole, 
the  pleasanter.  It  is  plain  that  Mr  Spencer  here  rejects  the 
naturalistic  identification  of ‘better’  with  ‘more  evolved’;  but 
it  is  possible  that  he  is  influenced  by  another  naturalistic 
identification — that  of  ‘good’  with  ‘pleasant.’  It  is  possible 
that  Mr  Spencer  is  a naturalistic  Hedonist. 


n] 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


51 


33.  Let  us  examine  Mr  Spencer’s  own  words.  He  begins 
this  third  chapter  by  an  attempt  to  shew  that  we  call  ‘good  the 
acts  conducive  to  life,  in  self  or  others,  and  bad  those  which 
directl}''  or  indirectly  tend  towards  death,  special  or  general’ 
(§  9).  And  then  he  asks:  ‘Is  there  any  assumption  made’  in 
so  calling  them?  ‘Yes’;  he  answers,  ‘an  assumption  of  extreme 
significance  has  been  made — an  assumption  underlying  all 
moral  estimates.  The  question  to  be  definitely  raised  and 
answered  before  entering  on  any  ethical  discussion,  is  the 
question  of  late  much  agitated — Is  life  worth  living?  Shall  we 
take  the  pessimist  view?  or  shall  we  take  the  optimist  view?... 
On  the  answer  to  this  question  depends  every  decision  con- 
cerning the  goodness  or  badness  of  conduct.’  But  Mr  Spencer 
does  not  immediately  proceed  to  give  the  answer.  Instead  of 
this,  he  asks  another  question:  ‘But  now,  have  these  irrecon- 
cilable opinions  [pessimist  and  optimist]  anything  in  common  ? ’ 
And  this  question  he  immediately  answers  by  the  statement: 
‘Yes,  there  is  one  postulate  in  which  pessimists  and  optimists 
agree.  Both  their  arguments  assume  it  to  be  self-evident  that 
life  is  good  or  bad,  according  as  it  does,  or  does  not,  bring 
a surplus  of  agreeable  feeling’  (§  10).  It  is  to  the  defence 
of  this  statement  that  the  rest  of  the  chapter  is  devoted;  and 
at  the  end  Mr  Spencer  formulates  his  conclusion  in  the  following 
words:  ‘No  school  can  avoid  taking  for  the  ultimate  moral 
aim  a desirable  state  of  feeling  called  by  whatever  name — 
gratification,  enjoyment,  happiness.  Pleasure  somewhere,  at 
some  time,  to  some  being  or  beings,  is  an  inexpugnable  element 
of  the  conception’  (§16  <xd,  fin.). 

Now  in  all  this,  there  are  two  points  to  which  I wish  to  call 
attention.  The  first  is  that  Mr  Spencer  does  not,  after  all,  tell 
us  clearly  what  he  takes  to  be  the  relation  of  Pleasure  and 
Evolution  in  ethical  theory.  Obviously  he  should  mean  that 
pleasure  is  the  only  intrinsically  desirable  thing;  that  other 
good  things  are  ‘good’  only  in  the  sense  that  they  are  means 
to  its  existence.  Nothing  but  this  can  properly  be  meant  by 
asserting  it  to  be  ‘the  ultimate  moral  aim,’  or,  as  he  subsequently 
says  (§  62  ad  fin.),  ‘the  ultimately  supreme  end.’  And,  if  this 
were  so,  it  would  follow  that  the  more  evolved  conduct  was 


52 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


[chap. 


better  than  the  less  evolved,  only  because,  and  m proportion 
as,  it  gave  more  pleasure.  But  Mr  Spencer  tells  us  that  two 
conditions  are,  taken  together,  sufficient  to  prove  the  more 
evolved  conduct  better:  (1)  That  it  should  tend  to  produce 
more  life;  (2)  That  life  should  be  worth  living  or  contain 
a balance  of  pleasure.  And  the  point  I wish  to  emphasise  is 
that  if  these  conditions  are  sufficient,  then  pleasure  cannot  be 
the  sole  good.  For  though  to  produce  more  life  is,  if  the 
second  of  Mr  Spencer’s  propositions  be  correct,  one  way  of 
producing  more  pleasure,  it  is  not  the  only  way.  It  is  quite 
possible  that  a small  quantity  of  life,  which  was  more  intensely 
and  uniformly  present,  should  give  a greater  quantity  of 
pleasure  than  the  greatest  possible  quantity  of  life  that  was 
only  just  ‘worth  living.’  And  in  that  case,  on  the  hedonistic 
supposition  that  pleasure  is  the  only  thing  worth  having,  we 
should  have  to  prefer  the  smaller  quantity  of  life  and  therefore, 
according  to  Mr  Spencer,  the  less  evolved  conduct.  Accord- 
ingly, if  Mr  Spencer  is  a true  Hedonist,  the  fact  that  life  gives 
a balance  of  pleasure  is  not,  as  he  seems  to  think,  sufficient 
to  prove  that  the  more  evolved  conduct  is  the  better.  If 
Mr  Spencer  means  us  to  understand  that  it  is  sufficient,  then 
his  view  about  pleasure  can  only  be,  not  that  it  is  the  sole  good 
or  ‘ultimately  supreme  end,’  but  that  a balance  of  it  is  a 
necessary  constituent  of  the  supreme  end.  In  short,  Mr  Spencer 
seems  to  maintain  that  more  life  is  decidedly  better  than  less, 
if  only  it  give  a balance  of  pleasure:  and  that  contention  is 
inconsistent  with  the  position  that  pleasure  is  ‘the  ultimate 
moral  aim.’  Mr  Spencer  implies  that  of  two  quantities  of  life, 
which  gave  an  equal  amount  of  pleasure,  the  larger  would 
nevertheless  be  preferable  to  the  less.  And  if  this  be  so,  then 
he  must  maintain  that  quantity  of  life  or  degree  of  evolution  is 
itself  an  ultimate  condition  of  value.  He  leaves  us,  therefore, 
in  doubt  whether  he  is  not  still  retaining  the  Evolutionistic 
proposition,  that  the  more  evolved  is  better,  simply  because 
it  is  more  evolved,  alongside  of  the  Hedonistic  proposition, 
that  the  more  pleasant  is  better,  simply  because  it  is  more 
pleasant. 

But  the  second  question  which  we  have  to  ask  is:  What 


n] 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


53 


reasons  has  Mr  Spencer  for  assigning  to  pleasure  the  position 
which  he  does  assign  to  it?  He  tells  us,  we  saw,  that  the 
‘arguments’  both  of  pessimists  and  of  optimists  ‘assume  it  to 
be  self-evident  that  life  is  good  or  bad,  according  as  it  does,  or 
does  not,  bring  a surplus  of  agreeable  feeling’;  and  he  betters 
this  later  by  telling  us  that  'since  avowed  or  implied  pessimists, 
and  optimists  of  one  or  other  shade,  taken  together  constitute 
all  men,  it  results  that  this  postulate  is  universally  accepted’ 
(§  16).  That  these  statements  are  absolutely  false  is,  of  course, 
quite  obvious:  but  why  does  Mr  Spencer  think  them  true?  and, 
what  is  more  important  (a  question  which  Mr  Spencer  does 
not  distinguish  too  clearly  from  the  last),  why  does  he  think 
the  postulate  itself  to  be  true  ? Mr  Spencer  himself  tells  us  his 
‘proof  is’  that  ‘reversing  the  application  of  the  words’  good 
and  bad — applying  the  word  ‘good’  to  conduct,  the  ‘aggregate 
results’  of  which  are  painful,  and  the  word  ‘bad’  to  conduct, 
of  which  the  ‘aggregate  results’  are  pleasurable — ‘creates 
absurdities’  (§  16).  He  does  not  say  whether  this  is  because  it 
is  absurd  to  think  that  the  quality,  which  we  mean  hy  the  word 
‘good,’  really  applies  to  what  is  painful.  Even,  however,  if  we 
assume  him  to  mean  this,  and  if  we  assume  that  absurdities 
are  thus  created,  it  is  plain  he  would  only  prove  that  what 
is  painful  is  properly  thought  to  be  so  far  bad,  and  what  is 
pleasant  to  be  so  far  good:  it  would  not  prove  at  all  that 
pleasure  is  'the  supreme  end.’  There  is,  however,  reason  to 
think  that  part  of  what  Mr  Spencer  means  is  the  naturalistic 
fallacy:  that  he  imagines  ‘pleasant’  or  ‘productive  of  pleasure’ 
is  the  very  meaning  of  the  word  ‘ good,’  and  that  ‘ the  absurdity  ’ 
is  due  to  this.  It  is  at  all  events  certain  that  he  does  not 
distinguish  this  possible  meaning  from  that  which  would  admit 
that  ‘good’  denotes  an  unique  indefinable  quality.  The  doctrine 
of  naturalistic  Hedonism  is,  indeed,  quite  strictly  implied  in  his 
statement  that  ‘virtue’  cannot  ‘he  defined  otherwise  than  in 
terms  of  happiness’  (§  13);  and,  though,  as  I remarked  above, 
we  cannot  insist  upon  Mr  Spencer’s  words  as  a certain  clue  to 
any  definite  meaning,  that  is  only  because  he  generally  expresses 
by  them  several  inconsistent  alternatives — the  naturalistic 
fallacy  being,  in  this  case,  one  such  alternative.  It  is  certainly 


54 


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[chap. 


impossible  to  find  any  further  reasons  given  by  Mr  Spencer  for 
his  conviction  that  pleasure  both  is  the  supreme  end,  and  is 
universally  admitted  to  be  so.  He  seems  to  assume  throughout 
that  we  must  mean  by  good  conduct  what  is  productive  of 
pleasure,  and  by  bad  what  is  productive  of  pain.  So  far, 
then,  as  he  is  a Hedonist,  he  would  seem  to  be  a naturalistic 
Hedonist. 

So  much  for  Mr  Spencer.  It  is,  of  course,  quite  possible 
that  his  treatment  of  Ethics  contains  many  interesting  and 
instructive  remarks.  It  would  seem,  indeed,  that  Mr  Spencer’s 
main  view,  that  of  which  he  is  most  clearly  and  most  often 
conscious,  is  that  pleasure  is  the  sole  good,  and  that  to  consider 
the  direction  of  evolution  is  by  far  the  best  criterion  of  the  way 
in  which  we  shall  get  most  of  it:  and  this  theory,  if  he  could 
establish  that  amount  of  pleasure  is  always  in  direct  proportion 
to  amount  of  evolution  and  also  that  it  was  plain  what  conduct 
was  more  evolved,  would  be  a very  valuable  contribution  to 
the  science  of  Sociology;  it  would  even,  if  pleasure  were  the 
sole  good,  be  a valuable  contribution  to  Ethics.  But  the 
above  discussion  should  have  made  it  plain  that,  if  what  we 
w'ant  from  an  ethical  philosopher  is  a scientific  and  systematic 
Ethics,  not  merely  an  Ethics  professedly  ‘based  on  science’; 
if  what  we  want  is  a clear  discussion  of  the  fundamental 
principles  of  Ethics,  and  a statement  of  the  ultimate  reasons 
why  one  way  of  acting  should  be  considered  better  than 
another — then  Mr  Spencer’s  ‘Data  of  Ethics’  is  immeasurably 
far  from  satisfying  these  demands. 

34.  It  remains  only  to  state  clearly  what  is  definitely 
fallacious  in  prevalent  views  as  to  the  relation  of  Evolution 
to  Ethics — in  those  views  with  regard  to  which  it  seems  so 
uncertain  how  far  Mr  Spencer  intends  to  encourage  them. 
I propose  to  confine  the  term  ‘Evolutionistic  Ethics’  to  the 
view  that  we  need  only  to  consider  the  tendency  of  ‘evolution’ 
in  order  to  discover  the  direction  in  which  we  ought  to  go. 
This  view  must  be  carefully  distinguished  from  certain  others, 
which  may  be  commonly  confused  with  it.  (1)  It  might,  for 
instance,  be  held  that  the  direction  in  which  living  things  have 
hitherto  developed  is,  as  a matter  of  fact,  the  direction  of 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


55 


n] 


progress.  It  might  be  held  that  the  ‘more  evolved’  is,  as 
a matter  of  fact,  also  better.  And  in  such  a view  no  fallacy  is 
involved.  But,  if  it  is  to  give  us  any  guidance  as  to  how  we 
ought  to  act  in  the  future,  it  does  involve  a long  and  painful 
investigation  of  the  exact  points  in  which  the  superiority  of 
the  more  evolved  consists.  We  cannot  assume  that,  because 
evolution  is  progress  on  the  whole,  therefore  every  point  in 
which  the  more  evolved  differs  from  the  less  is  a point  in  which 
it  is  better  than  the  less.  A simple  consideration  of  the  course 
of  evolution  will  therefore,  on  this  view,  by  no  means  suffice  to 
inform  us  of  the  course  we  ought  to  pursue.  We  shall  have  to 
employ  all  the  resources  of  a strictly  ethical  discussion  in  order 
to  arrive  at  a correct  valuation  of  the  different  results  of 
evolution — to  distinguish  the  more  valuable  from  the  less 
valuable,  and  both  from  those  which  are  no  better  than  their 
causes,  or  perhaps  even  worse.  In  fact  it  is  difficult  to  see  how, 
on  this  view — if  all  that  be  meant  is  that  evolution  has  on  the 
whole  been  a progress — the  theory  of  evolution  can  give  any 
assistance  to  Ethics  at  all.  The  judgment  that  evolution  has 
been  a progress  is  itself  an  independent  ethical  judgment;  and 
even  if  we  take  it  to  be  more  certain  and  obvious  than  any  of  the 
detailed  judgments  upon  which  it  must  logically  depend  for 
confirmation,  we  certainly  cannot  use  it  as  a datum  from  which 
to  infer  details.  It  is,  at  all  events,  certain  that,  if  this  had 
been  the  only  relation  held  to  exist  between  Evolution  and 
Ethics,  no  such  importance  would  have  been  attached  to  the 
bearing  of  Evolution  on  Ethics  as  we  actually  find  claimed  for 
it.  (2)  The  view,  which,  as  I have  said,  seems  to  be  Mr  Spencer’s 
main  view,  may  also  be  held  without  fallacy.  It  may  be  held 
that  the  more  evolved,  though  not  itself  the  better,  is  a criterion, 
because  a concomitant,  of  the  better.  But  this  view  also 
obviously  involves  an  exhaustive  preliminary  discussion  of  the 
fundamental  ethical  question  what,  after  all,  is  better.  That 
Mr  Spencer  entirely  dispenses  with  such  a discussion  in  support 
of  his  contention  that  pleasure  is  the  sole  good,  I have  pointed 
out;  and  that,  if  we  attempt  such  a discussion,  we  shall  arrive 
at  no  such  simple  result,  I shall  presently  try  to  shew.  If 
however  the  good  is  not  simple,  it  is  by  no  means  likely  that 


56 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


[chap. 


we  shall  be  able  to  discover  Evolution  to  be  a criterion  of  it. 
We  shall  have  to  establish  a relation  between  two  highly 
complicated  sets  of  data;  and,  moreover,  if  we  had  once  settled 
what  were  goods,  and  what  their  comparative  values,  it  is 
extremely  unlikely  that  we  should  need  to  call  in  the  aid  of 
Evolution  as  a criterion  of  how  to  get  the  most.  It  is  plain, 
then,  again,  that  if  this  were  the  only  relation  imagined  to 
exist  between  Evolution  and  Ethics,  it  could  hardly  have  been 
thought  to  justify  the  assignment  of  any  importance  in  Ethics 
to  the  theory  of  Evolution.  Finally,  (3)  it  may  be  held  that, 
though  Evolution  gives  us  no  help  in  discovering  what  results 
of  our  efforts  will  be  best,  it  does  give  some  help  in  discovering 
what  it  is  possible  to  attain  and  what  are  the  means  to  its 
attainment.  That  the  theory  really  may  be  of  service  to  Ethics 
in  this  way  cannot  be  denied.  But  it  is  certainly  not  common 
to  find  this  humble,  ancillary  bearing  clearly  and  exclusively 
assigned  to  it.  In  the  mere  fact,  then,  that  these  non-fallacious 
views  of  the  relation  of  Evolution  to  Ethics  would  give  so  very 
little  importance  to  that  relation,  we  have  evidence  that  what 
is  typical  in  the  coupling  of  the  two  names  is  the  fallacious 
view  to  which  I propose  to  restrict  the  name  ‘Evolutionistic 
Ethics.’  This  is  the  view  that  we  ought  to  move  in  the 
direction  of  evolution  simply  because  it  is  the  direction  of 
evolution.  That  the  forces  of  Nature  are  working  on  that  side 
is  taken  as  a presumption  that  it  is  the  right  side.  That  such 
a view,  apart  from  metaphysical  presuppositions,  with  which 
I shall  presently  deal,  is  simply  fallacious,  I have  tried  to  shew. 
It  can  only  rest  on  a confused  belief  that  somehow  the  good 
simply  means  the  side  on  which  Nature  is  working.  And  it 
thus  involves  another  confused  belief  which  is  very  marked  in 
Mr  Spencer’s  whole  treatment  of  Evolution.  For,  after  all,  is 
Evolution  the  side  on  which  Nature  is  working?  In  the  sense, 
which  Mr  Spencer  gives  to  the  term,  and  in  any  sense  in  which 
it  can  be  regarded  as  a fact  that  the  more  evolved  is  higher. 
Evolution  denotes  only  a temporary  historical  process.  That 
things  will  permanently  continue  to  evolve  in  the  future,  or 
that  they  have  always  evolved  in  the  past,  we  have  not  the 
smallest  reason  to  believe.  For  Evolution  does  not,  in  this 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


57 


n] 

sense,  denote  a natural  law,  like  the  law  of  gravity.  Darwin’s 
theory  of  natural  selection  does  indeed  state  a natural  law:  it 
states  that,  given  certain  conditions,  certain  results  will  always 
happen.  But  Evolution,  as  Mr  Spencer  understands  it  and  as 
it  is  commonly  understood,  denotes  something  very  different. 
It  denotes  only  a process  which  has  actually  occurred  at  a given 
time,  because  the  conditions  at  the  beginning  of  that  time 
happened  to  be  of  a certain  nature.  That  such  conditions  will 
always  be  given,  or  have  always  been  given,  cannot  be  assumed; 
and  it  is  only  the  process  which,  according  to  natural  law,  must 
follow  from  these  conditions  and  no  others,  that  appears  to  be 
also  on  the  whole  a progress.  Precisely  the  same  natural  laws — 
Darwin’s,  for  instance — would  under  other  conditions  render 
inevitable  not  Evolution — not  a development  from  lower  to 
higher — but  the  converse  process,  which  has  been  called  In- 
volution. Yet  Mr  Spencer  constantly  speaks  of  the  process 
which  is  exemplified  in  the  development  of  man  as  if  it  had 
all  the  augustness  of  a universal  Law  of  Nature:  whereas  we 
have  no  reason  to  believe  it  other  than  a temporary  accident, 
requiring  not  only  certain  universal  natural  laws,  but  also  the 
existence  of  a certain  state  of  things  at  a certain  time.  The 
only  laws  concerned  in  the  matter  are  certainly  such  as,  under 
other  circumstances,  would  allow  us  to  infer,  not  the  develop- 
ment, but  the  extinction  of  man.  And  that  circumstances  will 
always  be  favourable  to  further  development,  that  Nature  will 
always  work  on  the  side  of  Evolution,  we  have  no  reason  what- 
ever to  believe.  Thus  the  idea  that  Evolution  throws  important 
light  on  Ethics  seems  to  be  due  to  a double  confusion.  Our 
respect  for  the  process  is  enlisted  by  the  representation  of  it 
as  the  Law  of  Nature.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  our  respect 
for  Laws  of  Nature  would  be  speedily  diminished,  did  we  not 
imagine  that  this  desirable  process  was  one  of  them.  To  suppose 
that  a Law  of  Nature  is  therefore  respectable,  is  to  commit  the 
naturalistic  fallacy;  but  no  one,  probably,  would  be  tempted  to 
commit  it,  unless  something  which  is  respectable,  were  repre- 
sented as  a Law  of  Nature.  If  it  were  clearly  recognised  that 
there  is  no  evidence  for  supposing  Nature  to  be  on  the  side  of 
the  Good,  there  would  probably  be  less  tendency  to  hold  the 
opinion,  which  on  other  grounds  is  demonstrably  false,  that 


58 


NATURALISTIC  ETHICS 


[chap.  II 


no  such  evidence  is  required.  And  if  both  false  opinions  were 
clearly  seen  to  be  false,  it  would  be  plain  that  Evolution  has 
very  little  indeed  to  say  to  Ethics. 

35.  In  this  chapter  I have  begun  the  criticism  of  certain 
ethical  views,  which  seem  to  owe  their  influence  mainly  to  the 
naturalistic  fallacy^the^fallacy  which  consists  in  identifying 
the  simple  notion  which  we  mean  by  ‘good’  with  some  other 
juptiorn  They  are  views  which  profess  to  tell  us  what  is  good 
in  itself;  and  my  criticism  of  them  is  mainly  directed  (1)  to 
bring  out  the  negative  result,  that  we  have  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  which  they  declare  to  be  the  sole  good,  really  to  be  so, 
(2)  to  illustrate  further  the  positive  result,  already  established 
in  Chapter  I,  that  the  fundamental  principles  of  Ethics  must 
be  synthetic  propositions,  declaring  what  things,  and  in  what 
degree,  possess  a simple  and  unanalysable  property  which  may 
be  called  ‘intrinsic  value’  or  ‘goodness.’  The  chapter  began 
(1)  by  dividing  the  views  to  be  criticised  into  (a)  those  which, 
supposing  ‘good’  to  be  defined  by  reference  to  some  super- 
sensible reality,  conclude  that  the  sole  good  is  to  be  found 
in  such  a reality,  and  may  therefore  be  called  ‘Metaphysical,’ 
(h)  those  which  assign  a similar  position  to  some  natural  object, 
and  may  therefore  be  called  ‘Naturalistic.’  Of  naturalistic  views, 
that  which  regards  ‘pleasure’  as  the  sole  good  has  received  far 
the  fullest  and  most  serious  treatment  and  was  therefore  re- 
served for  Chapter  III:  all  other  forms  of  Naturalism  may  be 
first  dismissed,  by  taking  typical  examples  (24 — 26).  (2)  As 
typical  of  naturalistic  views,  other  than  Hedonism,  there  was 
first  taken  the  popular  commendation  of  what  is  ‘natural’:  it 
v/as  pointed  out  that  by  ‘natural’  there  might  here  be  meant 
either  ‘normal’  or  ‘necessary,’  and  that  neither  the  ‘normal’ 
nor  the  ‘necessary’  could  be  seriously  supposed  to  be  either 
always  good  or  the  only  good  things  (27 — 28).  (3)  But  a more 
important  type,  because  one  which  claims  to  be  capable  of 
system,  is  to  be  found  in  ‘Evolutionistic  Ethics.’  The  influence 
of  the  fallacious  opinion  that  to  be  ‘better’  means  to  be  ‘more 
evolved’  was  illustrated  by  an  examination  of  Mr  Herbert 
Spencer’s  Ethics;  and  it  was  pointed  out  that,  but  for  the  in- 
fluence of  this  opinion.  Evolution  could  hardly  have  been  supposed 
to  have  any  important  bearing  upon  Ethics  (29 — 34). 


CHAPTER  III. 

HEDONISM. 

36.  In  this  chapter  we  have  to  deal  with  what  is  perhaps 
the  most  famous  and  the  most  widely  held  of  all  ethical  prin- 
ciples— the  principle  that  nothing  is  good  but  pleasure.  My 
chief  reason  for  treating  of  this  principle  in  this  place  is,  as 
I said,  that  Hedonism  appears  in  the  main  to  be  a form  of 
Naturalistic  Ethics:  in  other  words,  that  pleasure  has  been  so 
generally  held  to  be  the  sole  good,  is  almost  entirely  due  to  the 
fact  that  it  has  seemed  to  be  somehow  involved  in  the  definition 
of  ‘good’ — to  be  pointed  out  by  the  very  meaning  of  the  word. 
If  this  is  so,  then  the  prevalence  of  Hedonism  has  been  mainly 
due  to  what  I have  called  the  naturalistic  fallacy — the  failure 
to  distinguish  clearly  that  unique  and  indefinable  quality  which 
we  mean  by  good.  And  that  it  is  so,  we  have  very  strong 
evidence  in  the  fact  that,  of  all  hedonistic  writers.  Prof.  Sidgwick 
alone  has  clearly  recognised  that  by  ‘good’  we  do  mean  some- 
thing unanalysable,  and  has  alone  been  led  thereby  to  emphasise 
the  fact  that,  if  Hedonism  be  true,  its  claims  to  be  so  must 
be  rested  solely  on  its  self-evidence — that  we  must  maintain 
‘Pleasure  is  the  sole  good’  to  be  a mere  intuition.  It  appeared 
to  Prof.  Sidgwick  as  a new  discovery  that  what  he  calls  the 
‘method’  of  Intuitionism  must  be  retained  as  valid  alongside 
of,  and  indeed  as  the  foundation  of,  what  he  calls  the  alternative 
‘methods’  of  Utilitarianism  and  Egoism.  And  that  it  was  a 
new  discovery  can  hardly  be  doubted.  In  previous  Hedonists 
we  find  no  clear  and  consistent  recognition  of  the  fact  that 
their  fundamental  proposition  involves  the  assumption  that  a 


60 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


certain  unique  predicate  can  be  directly  seen  to  belong  to 
pleasure  alone  among  existents:  they  do  not  emphasise,  as 
they  could  hardly  have  failed  to  have  done  had  they  perceived 
it,  how  utterly  independent  of  all  other  truths  this  truth 
must  be. 

Moreover  it  is  easy  to  see  how  this  unique  position  should 
have  been  assigned  to  pleasure  without  any  clear  consciousness 
of  the  assumption  involved.  Hedonism  is,  for  a sufficiently 
obvious  reason,  the  first  conclusion  at  which  any  one  who 
begins  to  reflect  upon  Ethics  naturally  arrives.  It  is  very  easy 
to  notice  the  fact  that  we  are  pleased  with  things.  The  things 
we  enjoy  and  the  things  we  do  not,  form  two  unmistakable 
classes,  to  which  our  attention  is  constantly  directed.  But  it 
is  comparatively  difficult  to  distinguish  the  fact  that  we  approve 
a thing  from  the  fact  that  we  are  pleased  with  it.  Although, 
if  we  look  at  the  two  states  of  mind,  we  must  see  that  they  are 
different,  even  though  they  generally  go  together,  it  is  veiy 
difficult  to  see  in  what  respect  they  are  different,  or  that  the 
difference  can  in  any  connection  be  of  more  importance  than 
the  many  other  differences,  which  are  so  patent  and  yet  so 
difficult  to  analyse,  between  one  kind  of  enjoyment  and  another. 
It  is  very  difficult  to  see  that  by  ‘approving’  of  a thing  we 
mean  feeling  that  it  has  a certain  predicate — the  predicate, 
namely,  which  defines  the  peculiar  sphere  of  Ethics;  whereas 
in  the  enjoyment  of  a thing  no  such  unique  object  of  thought 
is  involved.  Nothing  is  more  natural  than  the  vulgar  mistake, 
which  we  find  expressed  in  a recent  book  on  Ethics':  ‘The 
primary  ethical  fact  is,  we  have  said,  that  something  is  approved 
or  disapproved : that  is,  in  other  words,  the  ideal  representation 
of  certain  events  in  the  way  of  sensation,  perception,  or  idea,  is 
attended  with  a feeling  of  pleasure  or  of  pain.’  In  ordinary 
speech,  ‘I  want  this,’  ‘I  like  this,’  ‘I  care  about  this’  are  con- 
stantly used  as  equivalents  for  ‘I  think  this  good.’  And  in 
this  way  it  is  very  natural  to  be  led  to  suppose  that  there  is  no 
distinct  class  of  ethical  judgments,  but  only  the  class  ‘things 
enjoyed’;  in  spite  of  the  fact,  which  is  very  clear,  if  not  very 
common,  that  we  do  not  always  approve  what  we  enjoy.  It  is, 
' A.  E.  Taylor’s  Problem  of  Conduct,  p.  120. 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


61 


of  course,  very  obvious  that  from  the  supposition  that  'I  think 
this  good’  is  identical  with  ‘I  am  pleased  with  this,’  it  cannot 
be  logically  inferred  that  pleasure  alone  is  good.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  is  very  difficult  to  see  what  could  be  logically 
inferred  from  such  a supposition;  and  it  seems  natural  enough 
that  such  an  inference  should  suggest  itself.  A very  little 
examination  of  what  is  commonly  written  on  the  subject  will 
suffice  to  shew  that  a logical  confusion  of  this  nature  is  very 
common.  Moreover  the  very  commission  of  the  naturalistic 
fallacy  involves  that  those  who  commit  it  should  not  recognise 
clearly  the  meaning  of  the  proposition  ‘This  is  good’ — that 
they  should  not  be  able  to  distinguish  this  from  other  propo- 
sitions which  seem  to  resemble  it;  and,  where  this  is  so,  it  is, 
of  course,  impossible  that  its  logical  relations  should  be  clearly 
perceived. 

37.  There  is,  therefore,  ample  reason  to  suppose  that 
Hedonism  is  in  general  a form  of  Naturalism — that  its  accept- 
ance is  generally  due  to  the  naturalistic  fallacy.  It  is,  indeed, 
only  when  we  have  detected  this  fallacy,  when  we  have  become 
clearly  aware  of  the  unique  object  which  is  meant  by  ‘good,’ 
that  we  are  able  to  give  to  Hedonism  the  precise  definition 
used  above,  ‘Nothing  is  good  but  pleasure’:  and  it  may,  there- 
fore, be  objected  that,  in  attacking  this  doctrine  under  the 
name  of  Hedonism,  I am  attacking  a doctrine  which  has  never 
really  been  held.  But  it  is  very  common  to  hold  a doctrine, 
without  being  clearly  aware  what  it  is  you  hold;  and  though, 
when  Hedonists  argue  in  favour  of  what  they  call  Hedonism, 
I admit  that,  in  order  to  suppose  their  arguments  valid,  they 
must  have  before  their  minds  something  other  than  the  doctrine 
I have  defined,  yet,  in  order  to  draw  the  conclusions  that  they 
draw,  it  is  necessary  that  they  should  also  have  before  their 
minds  this  doctrine.  In  fact,  my  justification  for  supposing 
that  I shall  have  refuted  historical  Hedonism,  if  I refute  the 
proposition  ‘Nothing  is  good  but  pleasure,  is,  that  although 
Hedonists  have  rarely  stated  their  principle  in  this  form  and 
though  its  truth,  in  this  form,  will  certainly  not  follow  from 
their  arguments,  yet  their  ethical  method  will  follow  logically 
from  nothing  else.  Any  pretence  of  the  hedonistic  method,  to 


62 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


discover  to  us  practical  truths  which  we  should  not  otherwise 
have  known,  is  founded  on  the  principle  that  the  course  of 
action  which  will  bring  the  greatest  balance  of  pleasure  is 
certainly  the  right  one;  and,  failing  an  absolute  proof  that  the 
greatest  balance  of  pleasure  always  coincides  with  the  greatest 
balance  of  other  goods,  which  it  is  not  generally  attempted  to 
give,  this  principle  can  only  be  justified  if  pleasure  be  the 
sole  good.  Indeed  it  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  Hedonists  are 
distinguished  by  arguing,  in  disputed  practical  questions,  as  if 
pleasure  were  the  sole  good;  and  that  it  is  justifiable,  for  this 
among  other  reasons,  to  take  this  as  the  ethical  principle  of 
Hedonism  will,  I hope,  be  made  further  evident  by  the  whole 
discussion  of  this  chapter. 

By  Hedonism,  then,  I mean  the  doctrine  that  pleasure  alone 
is  good  as  an  end — ‘good’  in  the  sense  which  I have  tried  to 
point  out  as  indefinable.  The  doctrine  that  pleasure,  among 
other  things,  is  good  as  an  end,  is  not  Hedonism ; and  I shall 
not  dispute  its  truth.  Nor  again  is  the  doctrine  that  other 
things,  beside  pleasure,  are  good  as  means,  at  all  inconsistent 
with  Hedonism:  the  Hedonist  is  not  bound  to  maintain  that 
‘Pleasure  alone  is  good,’  if  under  good  he  includes,  as  we 
generally  do,  what  is  good  as  means  to  an  end,  as  well  as  the 
end  itself.  In  attacking  Hedonism,  I am  therefore  simply  and 
solely  attacking  the  doctrine  that  ‘Pleasure  alone  is  good  as  an 
end  or  in  itself’:  I am  not  attacking  the  doctrine  that  ‘Pleasure 
is  good  as  an  end  or  in  itself,’  nor  am  I attacking  any  doctrine 
whatever  as  to  what  are  the  best  means  we  can  take  in  order  to 
obtain  pleasure  or  any  other  end.  Hedonists  do,  in  general, 
recommend  a course  of  conduct  which  is  very  similar  to  that 
which  I should  recommend.  I do  not  quarrel  with  them  about 
most  of  their  practical  conclusions,  I quarrel  only  with  the 
reasons  by  which  they  seem  to  think  their  conclusions  can  be 
supported;  and  I do  emphatically  deny  that  the  correctness  of 
their  conclusions  is  any  ground  for  inferring  the  correctness  of 
their  principles.  A correct  conclusion  may  always  be  obtained 
by  fallacious  reasoning;  and  the  good  life  or  virtuous  maxims 
of  a Hedonist  afford  absolutely  no  presumption  that  his  ethical 
philosophy  is  also  good.  It  is  his  ethical  philosophy  alone  with 


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HEDONISM 


63 


which  I am  concerned:  what  I dispute  is  the  excellence  of  his 
reasoning,  not  the  excellence  of  his  character  as  a man  or  even 
as  moral  teacher.  It  may  be  thought  that  my  contention  is 
unimportant,  but  that  is  no  ground  for  thinking  that  I am  not 
in  the  right.  What  I am  concerned  with  is  knowledge  only — 
that  we  should  think  correctly  and  so  far  arrive  at  some  truth, 
however  unimportant:  I do  not  say  that  such  knowledge  will 
make  us  more  useful  members  of  society.  If  any  one  does  not 
care  for  knowledge  for  its  own  sake,  then  I have  nothing  to  say 
to  him:  only  it  should  not  be  thought  that  a lack  of  interest  in 
what  I have  to  say  is  any  ground  for  holding  it  untrue. 

38.  Hedonists,  then,  hold  that  all  other  things  but  pleasure, 
whether  conduct  or  virtue  or  knowledge,  whether  life  or  nature 
or  beauty,  are  only  good  as  means  to  pleasure  or  for  the  sake  of 
pleasure,  never  for  their  own  sakes  or  as  ends  in  themselves. 
This  view  was  held  by  Aristippus,  the  disciple  of  Socrates,  and 
by  the  Cyrenaic  school  which  he  founded ; it  is  associated  with 
Epicurus  and  the  Epicureans;  and  it  has  been  held  in  modern 
times,  chiefly  by  those  philosophers  who  call  themselves  ‘Utili-' 
tarians’ — by  Bentham,  and  by  Mill,  for  instance.  Herbert 
Spencer,  as  we  have  seen,  also  says  he  holds  it;  and  Professor 
Sidgwick,  as  we  shall  see,  holds  it  too. 

Yet  all  these  philosophers,  as  has  been  said,  differ  from  one 
another  more  or  less,  both  as  to  what  they  mean  by  Hedonism, 
and  as  to  the  reasons  for  which  it  is  to  be  accepted  as  a true 
doctrine.  The  matter  is  therefore  obviously  not  quite  so  simple 
as  it  might  at  first  appear.  My  own  object  will  be  to  she^v 
quite  clearly  what  the  theory  must  imply,  if  it  is  made  precise, 
if  all  confusions  and  inconsistencies  are  removed  from  the 
conception  of  it;  and,  when  this  is  done,  I think  it  will  appear 
that  all  the  various  reasons  given  for  holding  it  to  be  true,  are 
really  quite  inadequate;  that  they  are  not  reasons  for  holding 
Hedonism,  but  only  for  holding  some  other  doctrine  which  is 
confused  therewith.  In  order  to  attain  this  object  I propose 
to  take  first  Mill’s  doctrine,  as  set  forth  in  his  book  called 
Utilitarianism:  we~shall  find  in  Milfa  conception  of  Pledonism, 
and  arguments  in  its  favour,  which  fiiirly  represent  those  of 
a large  class  of  hedonistic  writers.  To  these  i-epresentative 


64 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


conceptions  and  arguments  grave  objections,  objections  which 
appear  to  me  to  be  conclusive,  have  been  urged  by  Professor 
Sidgwick.  These  I shall  try  to  give  in  my  own  wmrds;  and 
shall  then  proceed  to  consider  and  refute  Professor  Sidgwick’s 
own  much  more  precise  conceptions  and  arguments.  With  this, 
I think,  we  shall  have  traversed  the  whole  field  of  Hedonistic 
doctrine.  It  will  appear,  from  the  discussion,  that  the  task  of 
deciding  what  is  or  is  not  good  in  itself  is  by  no  means  an  easy 
one;  and  in  this  way  the  discussion  will  afford  a good  example 
of  the  method  which  it  is  necessary  to  pursue  in  attempting  to 
arrive  at  the  truth  with  regard  to  this  primary  class  of  ethical 
principles.  In  particular  it  will  appear  that  two  principles  of 
method  must  be  constantly  kept  in  mind:  (1)  that  the  natural- 
istic fallacy  must  not  be  committed;  (2)  that  the  distinction 
between  means  and  ends  must  be  observed. 

39.  I propose,  then,  to  begin  by  an  examination  of  Mill’s 
Utilitarianism.  That  is  a book  which  contains  an  admirably 
clear  and  fair  discussion  of  many  ethical  principles  and  methods. 
Mill  exposes  not  a few  simple  mistakes  which  are  very  likely  to 
be  made  by  those  who  approach  ethical  problems  without  much 
previous  reflection.  But  what  I am  concerned  with  is  the 
mistakes  which  Mill  himself  appears  to  have  made,  and  these 
only  so  far  as  they  concern  the  Hedonistic  principle.  Let  me 
repeat  what  that  principle  is.  It  is,  I said,  that  pleasure  is  the 
only  thing  at  which  we  ought  to  aim,  the  only  thing  that  is 
good  as  an  end  and  for  its  own  sake.  And  now  let  us  turn  to 
Mill  and  see  whether  he  accepts  this  description  of  the  question 
at  issue.  ‘Pleasure,’  he  says  at  the  outset,  ‘and  freedom  from 
pain,  are  the  only  things  desirable  as  ends’  (p.  10^);  and  again, 
at  the  end  of  his  argument,  ‘To  think  of  an  object  as  desirable 
(unless  for  the  sake  of  its  consequences)  and  to  think  of  it  as 
pleasant  are  one  and  the  same  thing’  (p.  58).  These  statements, 
taken  together,  and  apart  from  certain  confusions  which  are 
obvious  in  them,  seem  to  imply  the  principle  I have  stated; 
and  if  I succeed  in  shewing  that  Mill’s  reasons  for  them  do  not 
prove  them,  it  must  at  least  be  admitted  that  I have  not  been 
fighting  with  shadows  or  demolishing  a man  of  straw. 

1 My  references  are  to  the  13th  edition,  1897. 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


65 


It  will  be  observed  that  Mill  adds  ‘absence  of  pain’  to 
‘pleasure’  in  his  first  statement,  though  not  in  his  second. 
There  is,  in  this,  a confusion,  with  which,  however,  we  need  not 
deal.  I shall  talk  of  ‘pleasure’  alone,  for  the  sake  of  conciseness; 
but  all  my  arguments  will  apply  a fortiori  to  ‘absence  of  pain’: 
it  is  easy  to  make  the  necessary  substitutions. 

Mill  holds,  then,  that  ‘happiness  is  desirable,  and  the  only 
thing  desirable^,  as  an  end;  all  other  things  being  only  desirable 
as  means  to  that  end’  (p.  52).  Happiness  he  has  already 
defined  as  ‘pleasure,  and  the  absence  of  pain’  (p.  10);  he  does 
not  pretend  that  this  is  more  than  an  arbitrary  verbal  defini- 
tion; and,  as  such,  I have  not  a word  to  say  against  it.  His 
principle,  then,  is  ‘pleasure  is  the  only  thing  desirable,’  if  I 
may  be  allowed,  when  I say  ‘pleasure,’  to  include  in  that  word 
(so  far  as  necessary)  absence  of  pain.  And  now  what  are  his 
reasons  for  holding  that  principle  to  be  true?  He  has  already 
told  us  (p.  6)  that  ‘Questions  of  ultimate  ends  are  not  amenable 
to  direct  proof  Whatever  can  be  proved  to  be  good,  must  be 
so  by  being  shewn  to  be  a means  to  something  admitted  to  be 
good  without  proof.'  With  this,  I perfectly  agree:  indeed  the 
chief  object  of  my  first  chapter  was  to  shew  that  this  is  so. 
Anything  which  is  good  as  an  end  must  be  admitted  to  be  good 
without  proof.  We  are  agreed  so  far.  Mill  even  uses  the  same 
examples  which  I used  in  my  second  chapter.  ‘How,’  he  says, 
‘is  it  possible  to  prove  that  health  is  good?’  ‘What  proof  is  it 
possible  to  give  that  pleasure  is  good?’  Well,  in  Chapter  IV, 
in  which  he  deals  with  the  proof  of  his  Utilitarian  principle, 
Mill  repeats  the  above  statement  in  these  words:  ‘It  has 
already,’  he  says,  ‘been  remarked,  that  questions  of  ultimate 
ends  do  not  admit  of  proof,  in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the 
term’  (p.  52).  ‘Questions  about  ends,’  he  goes  on  in  this  same 
passage,  ‘are,  in  other  words,  questions  what  things  are  desir- 
able.’ I am  quoting  these  repetitions,  because  they  make  it 
plain  what  otherwise  might  have  been  doubted,  that  Mill  is  using 
the  words  ‘desirable’  or  ‘desirable  as  an  end’  as  absolutely  and 
precisely  equivalent  to  the  words  ‘good  as  an  end.’  We  are. 


1 My  italics. 


66  HEDONISM  [chap. 

then,  now  to  hear,  what  reasons  he  advances  for  this  doctrine 
that  pleasure  alone  is  good  as  an  end. 

40.  ‘Questions  about  ends,’  he  says  (pp.  52 — 3),  ‘are,  in  other 
words,  questions  what  things  are  desirable.  The  utilitarian 
doctrine  is,  that  happiness  is  desirable,  and  the  only  thing 
desirable,  as  an  end;  all  other  things  being  only  desirable  as 
means  to  that  end.  What  ought  to  be  required  of  this  doctrine 
— what  conditions  is  it  requisite  that  the  dock’ine  should  fulfil — 
to  make  good  its  claim  to  be  believed? 

‘The  only  proof  capable  of  being  given  that  a thing  is  visible, 
is  that  people  actually  see  it.  The  only  proof  that  a sound  is 
audible,  is  that  people  hear  it;  and  so  of  the  other  sources  of 
our  experience.  In  like  manner,  I apprehend,  the  sole  evidence 
it  is  possible  to  produce  that  anything  is  desirable,  is  that 
people  do  actually  desire  it.  If  the  end  which  the  utilitarian 
doctrine  proposes  to  itself  were  not,  in  theory  and  in  practice, 
acknowledged  to  be  an  end,  nothing  could  ever  convince  any 
person  that  it  was  so.  No  reason  can  be  given  why  the  general 
happiness  is  desirable,  except  that  each  person,  so  far  as  he 
believes  it  to  be  attainable,  desires  his  own  happiness.  This, 
however,  being  the  fact,  we  have  not  only  all  the  proof  which 
the  case  admits  of,  but  all  which  it  is  possible  to  require,  that 
happiness  is  a good:  that  each  person’s  happiness  is  a good  to 
that  person,  and  the  general  happiness,  therefore,  a good  to  the 
aggregate  of  all  persons.  Happiness  has  made  out  its  title  as 
one  of  the  ends  of  conduct,  and  consequently  one  of  the  criteria 
of  morality.’ 

There,  that  is  enough.  That  is  my  first  point.  Mill  has 
made  as  naive  and  artless  a use  of  the  naturalistic  fallacy  as 
anybody  could  desire.  ‘Good,’  he  tells  us,  means  ‘desirable,’ 
and  you  can  only  find  out  what  is  desirable  by  seeking  to  find 
out  what  is  actually  desired.  This  is,  of  course,  only  one  step 
towards  the  proof  of  Hedonism;  for  it  may  be,  as  Mill  goes  on 
to  say,  that  other  things  beside  pleasure  are  desired.  Whether  or 
not  pleasure  is  the  only  thing  desired  is,  as  Mill  himself  admits 
(p.  58),  a psychological  question,  to  which  we  shall  presently 
proceed.  The  important  step  for  Ethics  is  this  one  just  taken, 
the  step  which  pretends  to  prove  that  ‘good’  meaus  ‘desired.’ 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


67 


Well,  the  fallacy  in  this  step  is  so  obvious,  that  it  is  quite 
wonderful  how  Mill  failed  to  see  it.  The  fact  is  that  ‘desirable’ 
does  not  mean  ‘able  to  be  desired’  as  ‘visible’  means  ‘able  to  be 
seen.’  The  desirable  means  simply  what  ought  to  be  desired  or 
deserves  to  be  desired;  just  as  the  detestable  means  not  what 
can  be  but  what  ought  to  be  detested  and  the  damnable  what 
deserves  to  be  damned.  Mill  has,  then,  smuggled  in,  under 
cover  of  the  word  ‘desirable,’  the  very  notion  about  which  he 
ought  to  be  quite  clear.  ‘Desirable’  does  indeed  mean  ‘what  it 
is  good  to  desire’;  but  when  this  is  understood,  it  is  no  longer 
plausible  to  say  that  our  only  test  of  that,  is  what  is  actually 
desired.  Is  it  merely  a tautology  when  the  Prayer  Book  talks 
of  good  desires?  Are  not  had  desires  also  possible?  Nay,  we 
find  Mill  himself  talking  of  a ‘better  and  nobler  object  of 
desire’  (p.  10),  as  if,  after  all,  what  is  desired  were  not  ipso 
facto  good,  and  good  in  proportion  to  the  amount  it  is  desired. 
Moreover,  if  the  desired  is  ipso  facto  the  good;  then  the  good 
is  ipso  facto  the  motive  of  our  actions,  and  there  can  be  no 
question  of  finding  motives  for  doing  it,  as  Mill  is  at  such  pains 
to  do.  If  Mill’s  explanation  of  ‘desirable’  be  true,  then  his 
statement  (p.  26)  that  the  rule  of  action  may  be  confounded 
with  the  motive  of  it  is  untrue:  for  the  motive  of  action  will 
then  be  according  to  him  ipso  facto  its  rule;  there  can  be  no 
distinction  between  the  two,  and  therefore  no  confusion,  and 
thus  he  has  contradicted  himself  flatly.  These  are  specimens 
of  the  contradictions,  which,  as  I have  tried  to  shew,  must 
always  follow  from  the  use  of  the  naturalistic  fallacy;  and 
I hope  I need  now  say  no  more  about  the  matter. 

41.  Well,  then,  the  first  step  by  which  Mill  has  attempted 
to  establish  his  Hedonism  is  simply  fallacious.  He  has  attempted 
to  establish  the  identity  of  the  good  with  the  desired,  by 
confusing  the  proper  sense  of  ‘desirable,’  in  which  it  denotes  that 
which  it  is  good  to  desire,  with  the  sense  which  it  would  bear 
if  it  were  analogous  to  such  words  as  ‘visible.’  If  ‘desirable’  is 
to  be  identical  with  ‘good,’  then  it  must  bear  one  sense;  and 
if  it  is  to  be  identical  with  ‘desired,’  then  it  must  bear  quite 
another  sense.  And  yet  to  Mill’s  contention  that  the  desired  is 
necessarily  good,  it  is  q[uite  essential  that  these  two  senses  of 


68 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


‘desirable’  should  be  the  same.  If  he  holds  they  are  the  same, 
then  he  has  contradicted  himself  elsewhere;  if  he  holds  they 
are  not  the  same,  then  the  first  step  in  his  proof  of  Hedonism  is 
absolutely  worthless. 

But  now  we  must  deal  with  the  second  step.  Having  proved, 
as  he  thinks,  that  the  good  means  the  desired.  Mill  recognises 
that,  if  he  is  further  to  maintain  that  pleasure  alone  is  good, 
he  must  prove  that  pleasure  alone  is  really  desired.  This 
doctrine  that  ‘pleasure  alone  is  the  object  of  all  our  desires’ 
is  the  doctrine  which  Prof.  Sidgwick  has  called  Psychological 
Hedonism:  and  it  is  a doctrine  which  most  eminent  psycho- 
logists are  now  agreed  in  rejecting.  But  it  is  a necessary  step 
in  the  proof  of  any  such  Naturalistic  Hedonism  as  Mill’s;  and 
it  is  so  commonly  held,  by  people  not  expert  either  in  psychology 
or  in  philosophy,  that  I wish  to  treat  it  at  some  length.  It  will 
be  seen  that  Mill  does  not  hold  it  in  this  bare  form.  He  admits 
that  other  things  than  pleasure  are  desired;  and  this  admission 
is  at  once  a contradiction  of  his  Hedonism.  One  of  the  shifts 
by  which  he  seeks  to  evade  this  contradiction  we  shall  after- 
wards consider.  But  some  may  think  that  no  such  shifts  are 
needed:  they  may  say  of  Mill,  what  Callicles  says  of  Polus  in 
the  Oorgias^,  that  he  has  made  this  fatal  admission  through 
a most  unworthy  fear  of  appearing  paradoxical;  that  they,  on 
the  other  hand,  will  have  the  courage  of  their  convictions,  and 
will  not  be  ashamed  to  go  to  any  lengths  of  paradox,  in  defence 
of  what  they  hold  to  be  the  truth. 

42.  Well,  then,  we  are  supposing  it  held  that  pleasure  is 
the  object  of  all  desire,  that  it  is  the  universal  end  of  all  human 
activity.  Now  I suppose  it  will  not  be  denied  that  people  are 
commonly  said  to  desire  other  things:  for  instance,  we  usually 
talk  of  desiring  food  and  drink,  of  desiring  money,  approbation, 
fame.  The  question,  then,  must  be  of  what  is  meant  by  desire, 
and  by  the  object  of  desire.  There  is  obviously  asserted  some 
sort  of  necessary  or  universal  relation  between  something  which 
is  called  desire,  and  another  thing  which  is  called  pleasure.  The 
question  is  of  what  sort  this  relation  is;  whether  in  conjunction 
with  the  naturalistic  fallacy  above  mentioned,  it  will  justify 

^ 4b1  c — 487  B. 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


69 


Hedonism.  Now  I am  not  prepared  to  deny  that  there  is  some 
universal  relation  between  pleasure  and  desire ; but  I hope  to 
shew,  that,  if  there  is,  it  is  of  such  sort  as  will  rather  make 
against  than  for  Hedonism.  It  is  urged  that  pleasure  is  always 
the  object  of  desire,  and  I am  ready  to  admit  that  pleasure  is 
always,  in  part  at  least,  the  cause  of  desire.  But  this  distinction 
is  very  important.  Both  views  might  be  expressed  in  the  same 
language ; both  might  be  said  to  hold  that  whenever  we  desire, 
we  always  desire  because  of  some  pleasure : if  I asked  my 
supposed  Hedonist,  ‘ Why  do  you  desire  that  ? ’ he  might 
answer,  quite  consistently  with  his  contention,  ‘ Because  there 
is  pleasure  there,’  and  if  he  asked  me  the  same  question,  I 
might  answer,  equally  consistently  with  my  contention,  ‘ Because 
there  is  pleasure  here.’  Only  our  two  answers  would  not  mean 
the  same  thing.  It  is  this  use  of  the  same  language  to  denote 
quite  different  facts,  which  I believe  to  be  the  chief  cause  why 
Psychological  Hedonism  is  so  often  held,  just  as  it  was  also  the 
cause  of  Mill’s  naturalistic  fallacy. 

Let  us  try  to  analyse  the  psychological  state  which  is  called 
‘desire.’  That  name  is  usually  confined  to  a state  of  mind  in 
which  the  idea  of  some  object  or  event,  not  yet  existing,  is 
present  to  us.  Suppose,  for  instance,  I am  desiring  a glass  of 
port  wine.  I have  the  idea  of  drinking  such  a glass  before  my 
mind,  although  I am  not  yet  drinking  it.  Well,  how  does 
pleasure  enter  in  to  this  relation  ? My  theory  is  that  it  enters 
in,  in  this  way.  The  idea  of  the  drinking  causes  a feeling  of 
pleasure  in  my  mind,  which  helps  to  produce  that  state 
of  incipient  activity,  which  is  called  ‘desire.’  It  is,  therefore, 
because  of  a pleasure,  which  I already  have — the  pleasure 
excited  by  a mere  idea — that  I desire  the  wine,  which  I have 
not.  And  I am  ready  to  admit  that  a pleasure  of  this  kind,  an 
actual  pleasure,  is  always  among  the  causes  of  every  desire,  and 
not  only  of  every  desire,  but  of  every  mental  activity,  whether 
conscious  or  sub-conscious.  I am  ready  to  admit  this,  I say : 
I cannot  vouch  that  it  is  the  true  psychological  doctrine ; but, 
at  all  events,  it  is  not  primd  facie  quite  absurd.  And  now, 
what  is  the  other  doctrine,  the  doctrine  which  I am  supposing 
held,  and  which  is  at  all  events  essential  to  Mill’s  argument  ? 


4 


M 


70 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


It  is  this.  That  when  I desire  the  wine,  it  is  not  the  wine 
which  I desire  but  the  pleasure  which  I expect  to  get  from  it. 
In  other  words,  the  doctrine  is  that  the  idea  of  a pleasure  not 
actual  is  always  necessary  to  cause  desire ; whereas  ray  doctrine 
was  that  the  actual  pleasure  caused  by  the  idea  of  something 
else  was  always  necessary  to  cause  desire.  It  is  these  two 
different  theories  which  I suppose  the  Psychological  Hedonists 
to  confuse;  the  confusion  is,  as  Mr  Bradley  puts  it*,  between  ‘a 
pleasant  thought  ’ and  ‘ the  thought  of  a pleasure.’  It  is  in  fact 
only  where  the  latter,  the  ‘ thought  of  a pleasure,’  is  present, 
that  pleasure  can  be  said  to  be  the  object  of  desire,  or  the  motive 
to  action.  On  the  other  hand,  when  only  a pleasant  thought  is 
present,  as,  I admit,  may  always  be  the  case,  then  it  is  the  object 
of  the  thought — that  which  we  are  thinking  about — which  is 
the  object  of  desire  and  the  motive  to  action;  and  the  pleasure, 
which  that  thought  excites,  may,  indeed,  cause  our  desire  or 
move  us  to  action,  but  it  is  not  our  end  or  object  nor  our 
motive. 

Well,  I hope  this  distinction  is  sufficiently  clear.  Now  let 
us  see  how  it  bears  upon  Ethical  Hedonism.  I assume  it  to  be 
perfectly  obvious  that  the  idea  of  the  object  of  desire  is  not 
always  and  only  the  idea  of  a pleasure.  In  the  first  place, 
plainly,  we  are  not  always  conscious  of  expecting  pleasure, 
when  we  desire  a thing.  We  may  be  only  conscious  of  the 
thing  which  we  desire,  and  may  be  impelled  to  make  for  it 
at  once,  without  any  calculation  as  to  whether  it  will  bring  us 
pleasure  or  pain.  And,  in  the  second  place,  even  when  we  do 
expect  pleasure,  it  can  certainly  be  very  rarely  pleasure  only 
which  we  desire.  For  instance,  granted  that,  when  I desire  my 
glass  of  port  wine,  I have  also  an  idea  of  the  pleasure  I expect 
from  it,  plainly  that  pleasure  cannot  be  the  only  object  of  my 
desire;  the  port  wine  must  be  included  in  my  object,  else 
I might  be  led  by  my  desire  to  take  wormwood  instead  of 
wine.  If  the  desire  were  directed  solely  towards  the  pleasure, 
it  could  not  lead  me  to  take  the  wine ; if  it  is  to  take  a definite 
direction,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  the  idea  of  the  object, 
from  which  the  pleasure  is  expected,  should  also  be  present  and 
‘ Ethical  Studies,  p.  2‘62. 


HEDONISM 


71 


III] 


should  control  my  activity.  The  theory  then  that  what  is 
desired  is  always  and  only  pleasure  must  break  down:  it  is 
impossible  to  prove  that  pleasure  alone  is  good,  by  that  line 
of  argument.  But,  if  we  substitute  for  this  theory,  that  other, 
possibly  true,  theory,  that  pleasure  is  always  the  cause  of  desire, 
then  all  the  plausibility  of  our  ethical  doctrine  that  pleasure 
alone  is  good  straightway  disappears.  For  in  this  case,  pleasure 
is  not  what  I desire,  it  is  not  what  I want : it  is  something 
which  I already  have,  before  I can  want  anything.  And  can 
any  one  feel  inclined  to  maintain,  that  that  which  I ah’eady 
have,  while  I am  still  desiring  something  else,  is  always  and 
alone  the  good? 

43.  But  now  let  us  return  to  consider  another  of  Mill’s 
arguments  for  his  position  that  ‘ happiness  is  the  sole  end  of 
human  action.’  Mill  admits,  as  I have  said,  that  pleasure  is 
not  the  only  thing  we  actually  desire.  ‘ The  desire  of  virtue,’ 
he  says,  ‘ is  not  as  universal,  but  it  is  as  authentic  a fact,  as  the 
desire  of  happiness h’  And  again,  ‘Money  is,  in  many  cases, 
desired  in  and  for  itself^’  These  admissions  are,  of  course,  in 
naked  and  glaring  contradiction  with  his  argument  that  pleasure 
is  the  only  thing  desirable,  because  it  is  the  only  thing  desired. 
How  then  does  Mill  even  attempt  to  avoid  this  contradiction  ? 
His  chief  argument  seems  to  be  that  ‘ virtue,’  ‘ money  ’ and 
other  such  objects,  when  they  are  thus  desired  in  and  for 
themselves,  are  desired  only  as  ‘a  part  of  happiness®.’  Now 
what  does  this  mean  ? Happiness,  as  we  saw,  has  been  defined 
by  Mill,  as  ‘pleasure  and  the  absence  of  pain.’  Does  Mill  mean 
to  say  that  ‘ money,’  these  actual  coins,  which  he  admits  to  be 
desired  in  and  for  themselves,  are  a part  either  of  pleasure  or  of 
the  absence  of  pain  ? Will  he  maintain  that  those  coins  them- 
selves are  in  my  mind,  and  actually  a part  of  my  pleasant 
feelings  ? If  this  is  to  be  said,  all  words  are  useless : nothing 
can  possibly  be  distinguished  from  anything  else ; if  these  two 
things  are  not  distinct,  what  on  earth  is?  We  shall  hear 
next  that  this  table  is  really  and  truly  the  same  thing  as 
this  room ; that  a cab-horse  is  in  fact  indistinguishable  from 
St  Paul’s  Cathedral;  that  this  book  of  Mill’s  which  I hold  in 
i p.  53.  * p.  66.  » pp.  66—7. 

4-2 


72 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


my  hand,  because  it  was  his  pleasure  to  produce  it,  is  now  and 
at  this  moment  a part  of  the  happiness  which  he  felt  many 
years  ago  and  which  has  so  long  ceased  to  be.  Pray  consider 
a moment  what  this  contemptible  nonsense  really  means. 
‘ Money,’  says  Mill,  ‘ is  only  desirable  as  a means  to  happiness.’ 
Perhaps  so ; but  what  then  ? ‘ Why,’  says  Mill,  ‘ money  is 
undoubtedly  desired  for  its  own  sake.’  ‘Yes,  go  on,’  say  we. 
‘Well,’  says  Mill,  ‘if  money  is  desired  for  its  own  sake,  it  must 
be  desirable  as  an  end-in-itself : I have  said  so  myself.’  ‘ Oh,’ 
say  we,  ‘but  you  also  said  just  now  that  it  was  only  desirable 
as  a means.’  ‘ I own  I did,’  says  Mill,  ‘ but  I will  try  to  patch 
up  matters,  by  saying  that  what  is  only  a means  to  an  end,  is 
the  same  thing  as  a part  of  that  end.  I daresay  the  public  won’t 
notice.’  And  the  public  haven’t  noticed.  Yet  this  is  certainly 
what  Mill  has  done.  He  has  broken  down  the  distinction 
between  means  and  ends,  upon  the  precise  observance  of  which 
his  Hedonism  rests.  And  he  has  been  compelled  to  do  this, 
because  he  has  failed  to  distinguish  ‘ end  ’ in  the  sense  of 
what  is  desirable,  from  ‘ end  ’ in  the  sense  of  what  is  desired : 
a distinction  which,  nevertheless,  both  the  present  argument 
and  his  whole  book  presupposes.  This  is  a consequence  of  the 
naturalistic  fallacy. 

44.  Mill,  then,  has  nothing  better  to  say  for  himself  than 
this.  His  two  fundamental  propositions  are,  in  his  own  words, 
‘that  to  think  of  an  object  as  desirable  (unless  for  the  sake  of 
its  consequences),  and  to  think  of  it  as  pleasant,  are  one  and  the 
same  thing ; and  that  to  desire  anything  except  in  proportion 
as  the  idea  of  it  is  pleasant,  is  a physical  and  metaphysical 
impossibility Both  of  these  statements  are,  we  have  seen; 
merely  supported  by  fallacies.  The  first  seems  to  rest  on  the 
naturalistic  fallacy ; the  second  rests  partly  on  this,  partly  on 
the  fallacy  of  confusing  ends  and  means,  and  partly  on  the 
fallacy  of  confusing  a pleasant  thought  with  the  thought  of 
a pleasure.  His  very  language  shews  this.  For  that  the  idea 
of  a thing  is  pleasant,  in  his  second  clause,  is  obviously  meant 
to  be  the  same  fact  which  he  denotes  by  ‘ thinking  of  it  as 
pleasant,’  in  his  first. 


p.  68. 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


73 


Accordingly,  Mill’s  arguments  for  the  proposition  that 
pleasure  is  the  sole  good,  and  our  refutation  of  those  argu- 
ments, may  be  summed  up  as  follows : 

First  of  all,  he  takes  ‘the  desirable,’  which  he  uses  as 
a synonym  for  ‘ the  good,’  to  mean  what  can  be  desired.  The 
test,  again,  of  what  can  be  desired,  is,  according  to  him,  what 
actually  is  desired : if,  therefore,  he  says,  we  can  find  some 
one  thing  which  is  always  and  alone  desired,  that  thing  will 
necessarily  be  the  only  thing  that  is  desirable,  the  only  thing 
that  is  good  as  an  end.  In  this  argument  the  naturalistic 
fallacy  is  plainly  involved.  That  fallacy,  I explained,  consists 
in  the  contention  that  good  means  nothing  but  some  simple  or 
complex  notion,  that  can  be  defined  in  terms  of  natural  qualities. 
In  Mill’s  case,  good  is  thus  supposed  to  mean  simply  what  is 
desired ; and  what  is  desired  is  something  which  can  thus  be 
defined  in  natural  terms.  Mill  tells  us  that  we  ought  to  desire 
something  (an  ethical  proposition),  because  we  actually  do  desire 
it;  but  if  his  contention  that  ‘ I ought  to  desire  ’ means  nothing 
but  ‘ I do  desire  ’ were  true,  then  he  is  only  entitled  to  say,  ‘ We 
do  desire  so  and  so,  because  we  do  desire  it  ’ ; and  that  is  not 
an  ethical  proposition  at  all;  it  is  a mere  tautology.  The 
whole  object  of  Mill’s  book  is  to  help  us  to  discover  what  we 
ought  to  do ; but,  in  fact,  by  attempting  to  define  the  meaning 
of  this  ‘ ought,’  he  has  completely  debarred  himself  from  ever 
fulfilling  that  object : he  has  confined  himself  to  telling  us  what 
we  do  do. 

Mill’s  first  argument  then  is  that,  because  good  means 
desired,  therefore  the  desired  is  good ; but  having  thus  arrived 
at  an  ethical  conclusion,  by  denying  that  any  ethical  conclusion 
is  possible,  he  still  needs  another  argument  to  make  his  con- 
clusion a basis  for  Hedonism.  He  has  to  prove  that  we  always 
do  desire  pleasure  or  freedom  from  pain,  and  that  we  never 
desire  anything  else  whatever.  This  second  doctrine,  which 
Professor  Sidgwick  has  called  Psychological  Hedonism,  I accord- 
ingly discussed.  I pointed  out  how  obviously  untrue  it  is  that 
we  never  desire  anything  but  pleasure ; and  how  there  is  not 
a shadow  of  ground  for  saying  even  that,  whenever  we  desire 
anything,  we  always  desire  pleasure  as  well  as  that  thing. 


74 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


I attributed  the  obstinate  belief  in  these  untruths  partly  to 
a confusion  between  the  cause  of  desire  and  the  object  of  desire. 
It  may,  I said,  be  true  that  desire  can  never  occur  unless  it  be 
preceded  by  some  actual  pleasure ; but  even  if  this  is  true,  it 
obviously  gives  no  ground  for  saying  that  the  object  of  desire  is 
always  some  future  pleasure.  By  the  object  of  desire  is  meant 
that,  of  which  the  idea  causes  desire  in  us ; it  is  some  pleasure, 
which  we  anticipate,  some  pleasure  which  we  have  not  got, 
which  is  the  object  of  desire,  whenever  we  do  desire  pleasure. 
And  any  actual  pleasure,  which  may  be  excited  by  the  idea  of 
this  anticipated  pleasure,  is  obviously  not  the  same  pleasure  as 
that  anticipated  pleasure,  of  which  only  the  idea  is  actual.  This 
actual  pleasure  is  not  what  we  want ; what  we  want  is  always 
something  which  we  have  not  got ; and  to  say  that  pleasure 
always  causes  us  to  want  is  quite  a different  thing  from  saying 
that  what  we  want  is  always  pleasure. 

Finally,  we  saw,  Mill  admits  all  this.  He  insists  that  we 
do  actually  desire  other  things  than  pleasure,  and  yet  he  says 
we  do  really  desire  nothing  else.  He  tries  to  explain  away  this 
contradiction,  by  confusing  together  two  notions,  which  he  has 
before  carefully  distinguished — the  notions  of  means  and  of  end. 
He  now  says  that  a means  to  an  end  is  the  same  thing  as  a 
part  of  that  end.  To  this  last  fallacy  special  attention  should 
be  given,  as  our  ultimate  decision  with  regard  to  Hedonism  will 
largely  turn  upon  it. 

45.  It  is  this  ultimate  decision  with  regard  to  Hedonism 
at  which  we  must  now  try  to  arrive.  So  far  I have  been 
only  occupied  with  refuting  Mill’s  naturalistic  arguments  for 
Hedonism ; but  the  doctrine  that  pleasure  alone  is  desirable 
may  still  be  true,  although  Mill’s  fallacies  cannot  prove  it 
so.  This  is  the  question  which  we  have  now  to  face.  This 
proposition,  ‘pleasure  alone  is  good  or  desirable,’  belongs  un- 
doubtedly to  that  class  of  propositions,  to  which  Mill  at  first 
rightly  pretended  it  belonged,  the  class  of  first  principles,  which 
are  not  amenable  to  direct  proof.  But  in  this  case,  as  he 
also  rightly  says,  ‘considerations  may  be  presented  capable  of 
determining  the  intellect  either  to  give  or  withhold  its  assent  to 
the  doctrine’  (p.  7).  It  is  such  considerations  that  Professor 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


75 


Sidgwick  presents,  and  such  also  that  I shall  try  to  present 
for  the  opposite  view.  This  proposition  that  ‘pleasure  alone 
is  good  as  an  end,’  the  fundamental  proposition  of  Ethical 
Hedonism,  will  then  appear,  in  Professor  Sidgwick’s  language, 
as  an  object  of  intuition.  I shall  try  to  shew  you  why  my 
intuition  denies  it,  just  as  his  intuition  affirms  it.  It  may 
always  be  true  notwithstanding;  neither  intuition  can  prove 
whether  it  is  true  or  not ; I am  bound  to  be  satisfied,  if  I can 
‘present  considerations  capable  of  determining  the  intellect’  to 
reject  it. 

Now  it  may  be  said  that  this  is  a very  unsatisfactory  state 
of  things.  It  is  indeed;  but  it  is  important  to  make  a dis- 
tinction between  two  different  reasons,  which  may  be  given 
for  calling  it  unsatisfactory.  Is  it  unsatisfactory  because  our 
principle  cannot  be  proved  ? or  is  it  unsatisfactory  merely 
because  we  do  not  agree  with  one  another  about  it  ? I am 
inclined  to  think  that  the  latter  is  the  chief  reason.  For  the 
mere  fact  that  in  certain  cases  proof  is  impossible  does  not 
usually  give  us  the  least  uneasiness.  For  instance,  nobody  can 
prove  that  this  is  a chair  beside  me;  yet  I do  not  suppose 
that  anyone  is  much  dissatisfied  for  that  reason.  We  all  agree 
that  it  is  a chair,  and  that  is  enough  to  content  us,  although 
it  is  quite  possible  we  may  be  wrong.  A madman,  of  course, 
might  come  in  and  say  that  it  is  not  a chair  but  an  elephant. 
We  could  not  prove  that  he  was  wrong,  and  the  fact  that  he 
did  not  agree  with  us  might  then  begin  to  make  us  uneasy. 
Much  more,  then,  shall  we  be  uneasy,  if  some  one,  whom  we 
do  not  think  to  be  mad,  disagrees  with  us.  We  shall  try  to 
argue  with  him,  and  we  shall  probably  be  content  if  we  lead 
him  to  agree  with  us,  although  we  shall  not  have  proved  our 
point.  We  can  only  persuade  him  by  shewing  him  that  our 
view  is  consistent  with  something  else  which  he  holds  to  be 
true,  whereas  his  original  view  is  contradictory  to  it.  But  it 
will  be  impossible  to  prove  that  that  something  else,  which 
we  both  agree  to  be  true,  is  really  so ; we  shall  be  satisfied 
to  have  settled  the  matter  in  dispute  by  means  of  it,  merely 
because  we  are  agreed  on  it.  In  short,  our  dissatisfaction  in  these 
cases  is  almost  always  of  the  type  felt  by  the  poor  lunatic  in 


76 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


the  story.  ‘ I said  the  world  was  mad,’  says  he,  ‘ and  the 
world  said  that  I was  mad ; and,  confound  it,  they  outvoted 
me.’  It  is,  I say,  almost  always  such  a disagreement,  and  not 
the  impossibility  of  proof,  which  makes  us  call  the  state  of 
things  unsatisfactory.  For,  indeed,  who  can  prove  that  proof 
itself  is  a warrant  of  truth  ? We  are  all  agreed  that  the  laws 
of  logic  are  true  and  therefore  we  accept  a result  which  is 
proved  by  their  means ; but  such  a proof  is  satisfactory  to  us 
only  because  we  are  all  so  fully  agreed  that  it  is  a warrant 
of  truth.  And  yet  we  cannot,  by  the  nature  of  the  case,  prove 
that  we  are  right  in  being  so  agreed. 

Accordingly,  I do  not  think  we  need  be  much  distressed 
by  our  admission  that  we  cannot  prove  whether  pleasure  alone 
is  good  or  not.  We  may  be  able  to  arrive  at  an  agreement 
notwithstanding;  and  if  so,  I think  it  will  be  satisfactory. 
And  yet  I am  not  very  sanguine  about  our  prospects  of  such 
satisfaction.  Ethics,  and  philosophy  in  general,  have  always 
been  in  a peculiarly  unsatisfactory  state.  There  has  been  no 
agreement  about  them,  as  there  is  about  the  existence  of  chairs 
and  lights  and  benches.  I should  therefore  be  a fool  if  I 
hoped  to  settle  one  great  point  of  controversy,  now  and  once 
for  all.  It  is  extremely  improbable  I shall  convince.  It  would 
be  highly  presumptuous  even  to  hope  that  in  the  end,  say 
two  or  three  centuries  hence,  it  will  be  agreed  that  pleasure 
is  not  the  sole  good.  Philosophical  questions  are  so  difficult, 
the  problems  they  raise  are  so  complex,  that  no  one  can  fairly 
expect,  now,  any  more  than  in  the  past,  to  win  more  than  a 
very  limited  assent.  And  yet  I confess  that  the  considerations 
which  I am  about  to  present  appear  to  me  to  be  absolutely 
convincing.  I do  think  that  they  ought  to  convince,  if  only  I 
can  put  them  well.  In  any  case,  I can  but  try.  I shall  try 
now  to  put  an  end  to  that  unsatisfactory  state  of  things,  of 
which  I have  been  speaking.  I shall  try  to  produce  an  agree- 
ment that  the  fundamental  principle  of  Hedonism  is  very  like 
an  absurdity,  by  shewing  what  it  must  mean,  if  it  is  clearly 
thought  out,  and  how  that  clear  meaning  is  in  conflict  with 
other  beliefs,  which  will,  I hope,  not  be  so  easily  given  up. 

48.  Well,  then,  we  now  proceed  to  discuss  Intuibionistic 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


77 


Hedonism.  And  the  beginning  of  this  discussion  marks,  it 
is  to  be  observed,  a turning-point  in  my  ethical  method.  The 
point  I have  been  labouring  hitherto,  the  point  that  ‘good  is 
indefinable,’  and  that  to  deny  this  involves  a fallacy,  is  a point 
capable  of  strict  proof : for  to  deny  it  involves  contradictions. 
But  now  we  are  coming  to  the  question,  for  the  sake  of 
answering  which  Ethics  exists,  the  question  what  things  or 
qualities  are  good.  Of  any  answer  to  this  question  no  direct 
proof  is  possible,  and  that,  just  because  of  our  former  answer, 
as  to  the  meaning  of  good,  direct  proof  was  possible.  We  are 
now  confined  to  the  hope  of  what  Mill  calls  ‘ indirect  proof,’ 
the  hope  of  determining  one  another’s  intellect;  and  we  are 
now  so  confined,  just  because,  in  the  matter  of  the  former 
question  we  are  not  so  confined.  Here,  then,  is  an  intuition 
to  be  submitted  to  our  verdict — the  intuition  that  ‘pleasure 
alone  is  good  as  an  end — good  in  and  for  itself.’ 

47.  Well,  in  this  connection  it  seems  first  desirable  to 
touch  on  another  doctrine  of  Mill’s — another  doctrine  which, 
in  the  interest  of  Hedonism,  Professor  Sidgwick  has  done  very 
wisely  to  reject.  This  is  the  doctrine  of  ‘ difference  of  quality 
in  pleasures.’  ‘ If  I am  asked,’  says  MilP,  ‘ what  I mean  by 
difference  of  quality  in  pleasures,  or  what  makes  one  pleasure 
more  valuable  than  another,  merely  as  a pleasure,  except  its 
being  greater  in  amount,  there  is  but  one  possible  answer. 
Of  two  pleasures,  if  there  be  one  to  which  all  or  almost  all  who 
have  experience  of  both  give  a decided  preference,  irrespective 
of  any  feeling  of  moral  obligation  to  prefer  it,  that  is  the  more 
desirable  pleasure.  If  one  of  the  two  is,  by  those  who  are 
competently  acquainted  with  both,  placed  so  far  above  the  other 
that  they  prefer  it,  even  though  knowing  it  to  be  attended 
with  a greater  amount  of  discontent,  and  wmuld  not  resign  it 
for  any  quantity  of  the  other  pleasure  which  their  nature  is 
capable  of,  we  are  justified  in  ascribing  to  the  preferred  enjoy- 
ment a superiority  in  quality,  so  far  outweighing  quantity  as 
to  render  it,  in  comparison,  of  small  account.’ 

Now  it  is  well  known  that  Bentham  rested  his  case  for 
Hedonism  on  ‘ quantity  of  pleasure  ’ alone.  It  was  his  maxim, 

^ p.  12. 


78 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


that  ‘quantity  of  pleasure  being  equal,  pushpin  is  as  good  as 
poetry.’  And  Mill  apparently  considers  Bentham  to  have 
proved  that  nevertheless  poetry  is  better  than  pushpin;  that 
poetry  does  produce  a greater  quantity  of  pleasure.  But  yet, 
says  Mill,  the  Utilitarians  ‘ might  have  taken  the  other  and,  as 
it  may  be  called,  higher  ground,  with  entire  consistency’  (p.  11). 
Now  we  see  from  this  that  Mill  acknowledges  ‘quality  of 
pleasure  ’ to  be  another  or  different  ground  for  estimating 
pleasures,  than  Bentham’s  quantity ; and  moreover,  by  that 
question-begging  ‘ higher,’  which  he  afterwards  translates  into 
‘superior,’  he  seems  to  betray  an  uncomfortable  feeling,  that, 
after  all,  if  you  take  quantity  of  pleasure  for  your  only  standard, 
something  may  be  wrong  and  you  may  deserve  to  be  called 
a pig.  And  it  may  presently  appear  that  you  very  likely 
would  deserve  that  name.  But,  meanwhile,  I only  wish  to 
shew  that  Mill’s  admissions  as  to  quality  of  pleasure  are 
either  inconsistent  with  his  Hedonism,  or  else  afford  no  other 
ground  for  it  than  would  be  given  by  mere  quantity  of  pleasure. 

It  will  be  seen  that  Mill’s  test  for  one  pleasure’s  superiority 
in  quality  over  another  is  the  preference  of  most  people  who 
have  experienced  both.  A pleasure  so  preferred,  he  holds,  is 
more  desirable.  But  then,  as  we  have  seen,  he  holds  that  ‘ to 
think  of  an  object  as  desirable  and  to  think  of  it  as  pleasant 
are  one  and  the  same  thing  ’ (p.  58).  He  holds,  therefore,  that 
the  preference  of  experts  merely  proves  that  one  pleasure  is 
pleasanter  than  another.  But  if  that  is  so,  hoAV  can  he 
distinguish  this  standard  from  the  standard  of  quantity  of 
pleasure  ? Can  one  pleasure  be  pleasanter  than  another,  except 
in  the  sense  that  it  gives  more  pleasure  ? ‘ Pleasant  ’ must,  if 
words  are  to  have  any  meaning  at  all,  denote  some  one  quality 
common  to  all  the  things  that  are  pleasant ; and,  if  so,  then 
one  thing  can  only  be  more  pleasant  than  another,  according 
as  it  has  more  or  less  of  this  one  quality.  But,  then,  let  us 
try  the  other  alternative,  and  suppose  that  Mill  does  not 
seriously  mean  that  this  preference  of  experts  merely  proves 
one  pleasure  to  be  pleasanter  than  another.  Well,  in  this  case 
what  does  ‘ preferred  ’ mean  ? It  cannot  mean  ‘ more  desired,’ 
since,  as  we  know,  the  degree  of  desire  is  always,  according 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


79 


to  Mill,  in  exact  proportion  to  the  degree  of  pleasantness. 
But,  in  that  case,  the  basis  of  Mill’s  Hedonism  collapses,  for 
he  is  admitting  that  one  thing  may  be  preferred  over  another, 
and  thus  proved  more  desirable,  although  it  is  not  more  desired. 
In  this  case  Mill’s  judgment  of  preference  is  just  a judgment 
of  that  intuitional  kind  which  I have  been  contending  to  be 
necessary  to  establish  the  hedonistic  or  any  other  principle. 
It  is  a direct  judgment  that  one  thing  is  more  desirable,  or 
better  than  another;  a judgment  utterly  independent  of  all 
considerations  as  to  whether  one  thing  is  more  desired  or 
pleasanter  than  another.  This  is  to  admit  that  good  is  good 
and  indefinable. 

48.  And  note  another  point  that  is  brought  out  by  this  dis- 
cussion. Mill’s  judgment  of  preference,  so  far  from  establishing 
the  principle  that  pleasure  alone  is  good,  is  obviously  incon- 
sistent with  it.  He  admits  that  experts  can  judge  whether 
one  pleasure  is  more  desirable  than  another,  because  pleasures 
differ  in  quality.  But  what  does  this  mean  ? If  one  pleasure 
can  differ  from  another  in  quality,  that  means,  that  a pleasure 
is  something  complex,  something  composed,  in  fact,  of  pleasure 
in  addition  to  that  which  produces  pleasure.  For  instance.  Mill 
speaks  of  ‘sensual  indulgences’  as  ‘lower  pleasures.’  But  what 
is  a sensual  indulgence  ? It  is  surely  a certain  excitement  of 
some  sense  together  with  the  pleasure  caused  by  such  excite- 
ment. Mill,  therefore,  in  admitting  that  a sensual  indulgence 
can  be  directly  judged  to  be  lower  than  another  pleasure,  in 
which  the  degree  of  pleasure  involved  may  be  the  same,  is 
admitting  that  other  things  may  be  good,  or  bad,  quite 
independently  of  the  pleasure  which  accompanies  them.  A 
pleasure  is,  in  fact,  merely  a misleading  term  which  conceals 
the  fact  that  what  we  are  dealing  with  is  not  pleasure  but 
something  else,  which  may  indeed  necessarily  produce  pleasure, 
but  is  nevertheless  quite  distinct  from  it. 

Mill,  therefore,  in  thinking  that  to  estimate  quality  of 
pleasure  is  quite  consistent  with  his  hedonistic  principle  that 
pleasure  and  absence  of  pain  alone  are  desirable  as  ends,  has 
again  committed  the  fallacy  of  confusing  ends  and  means.  For 
take  even  the  most  favourable  supposition  of  his  meaning ; let 


80 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


US  suppose  that  by  a pleasure  he  does  not  mean,  as  his  words 
imply,  that  which  produces  pleasure  and  the  pleasure  produced. 
Let  us  suppose  him  to  mean  that  there  are  various  kinds  of 
pleasure,  in  the  sense  in  which  there  are  various  kinds  of 
colour — blue,  red,  green,  etc.  Even  in  this  case,  if  we  are  to 
say  that  our  end  is  colour  alone,  then,  although  it  is  impossible 
we  should  have  colour  without  having  some  particular  colour, 
yet  the  particular  colour  we  must  have,  is  only  a vieans  to  our 
having  colour,  if  colour  is  really  our  end.  And  if  colour  is  our 
only  possible  end,  as  Mill  says  pleasure  is,  then  there  can  be 
no  possible  reason  for  preferring  one  colour  to  another,  red,  for 
instance,  to  blue,  except  that  the  one  is  more  of  a colour  than 
the  other.  Yet  the  opposite  of  this  is  what  Mill  is  attempting 
to  hold  with  regard  to  pleasures. 

Accordingly  a consideration  of  Mill’s  view  that  some  pleasures 
are  superior  to  others  in  quality  brings  out  one  point  which 
may  ‘help  to  determine  the  intellect’  with  regard  to  the 
intuition  ‘Pleasure  is  the  only  good.’  For  it  brings  out  the  fact 
that  if  you  say  ‘pleasure,’  you  must  mean  ‘pleasure’:  you  must 
mean  some  one  thing  common  to  all  different  ‘ pleasures,’  some 
one  thing,  which  may  exist  in  different  degrees,  but  which 
cannot  differ  in  kind.  I have  pointed  out  that,  if  you  say,  as 
Mill  does,  that  quality  of  pleasure  is  to  be  taken  into  account, 
then  you  are  no  longer  holding  that  pleasure  alone  is  good  as  an 
end,  since  you  imply  that  something  else,  something  which 
is  not  present  in  all  pleasures,  is  also  good  as  an  end.  The 
illustration  I have  given  from  colour  expresses  this  point  in  its 
most  acute  form.  It  is  plain  that  if  you  say  ‘ Colour  alone  is 
good  as  an  end,’  then  you  can  give  no  possible  reason  for 
preferring  one  colour  to  another.  Your  only  standard  of  good 
and  bad  will  then  be  ‘ colour  ’ ; and  since  red  and  blue  both 
conform  equally  to  this,  the  only  standard,  you  can  have  no 
other  whereby  to  judge  whether  red  is  better  than  blue.  It  is 
true  that  you  cannot  have  colour  unless  you  also  have  one  or  all 
of  the  particular  colours : they,  therefore,  if  colour  is  the  end, 
will  all  be  good  as  means,  but  none  of  them  can  be  better  than 
another  even  as  a means,  far  less  can  any  one  of  them  be 
regarded  as  an  end  in  itself.  Just  so  with  pleasure : If  we  do 


Ill] 


HEDONIST 


81 


really  mean  ‘Pleasure  alone  is  good  as  an  end,’  then  we  must 
agree  with  Bentham  that  ‘Quantity  of  pleasure  being  equal, 
pushpin  is  as  good  as  poetry.’  To  have  thus  dismissed  Mill’s 
reference  to  quality  of  pleasure,  is  therefore  to  have  made  one 
step  in  the  desired  direction.  The  reader  will  now  no  longer 
be  prevented  from  agreeing  with  me,  by  any  idea  that  the 
hedonistic  principle  ‘Pleasure  alone  is  good  as  an  end’  is 
consistent  with  the  view  that  one  pleasure  may  be  of  a better 
quality  than  another.  These  two  views,  we  have  seen,  are 
contradictory  to  one  another.  We  must  choose  between  them  ; 
and  if  we  choose  the  latter,  then  we  must  give  up  the  principle 
of  Hedonism. 

49.  But,  as  I said.  Professor  Sidgwick  has  seen  that  they 
are  inconsistent.  He  has  seen  that  he  must  choose  between 
them.  He  has  chosen.  He  has  rejected  the  test  by  quality  of 
pleasure,  and  has  accepted  the  hedonistic  principle.  He  still 
maintains  that  ‘Pleasure  alone  is  good  as  an  end.’  I propose 
therefore  to  discuss  the  considerations  which  he  has  offered  in 
order  to  convince  us.  I shall  hope  by  that  discussion  to  remove 
some  more  of  such  prejudices  and  misunderstandings  as  might 
prevent  agreement  with  me.  If  I can  shew  that  some  of  the 
considerations  which  Professor  Sidgwick  urges  are  such  as  we 
need  by  no  means  agree  with,  and  that  others  are  actually  rather 
in  my  favour  than  in  his,  we  may  have  again  advanced  a few 
steps  nearer  to  the  unanimity  which  we  desire. 

50.  The  passages  in  the  Methods  of  Ethics  to  which  I shall 
now  invite  attention  are  to  be  found  in  I.  ix.  4 and  in  III. 
XIV.  4 — 5. 

The  first  of  these  two  passages  runs  as  follows : 

“I  think  that  if  we  consider  carefully  such  permanent  results 
as  are  commonly  judged  to  be  good,  other  than  qualities  of  human 
beings,  we  can  find  nothing  that,  on  reflection,  appears  to  possess 
this  quality  of  goodness  out  of  relation  to  human  existence,  or 
at  least  to  some  consciousness  or  feelinsr. 

“For  example,  we  commonly  judge  some  inanimate  objects, 
scenes,  etc.  to  be  good  as  possessing  beauty,  and  others  bad 
from  ugliness:  still  no  one  would  consider  it  rational  to  aim  at 
the  production  of  beauty  in  external  nature,  apart  from  any 


82 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


possible  contemplation  of  it  by  human  beings.  In  fact  when 
beauty  is  maintained  to  be  objective,  it  is  not  commonly  meant 
that  it  exists  as  beauty  out  of  relation  to  any  mind  whatsoever: 
but  only  that  there  is  some  standard  of  beauty  valid  for  all  minds. 

“It  may,  however,  be  said  that  beauty  and  other  results 
commonly  judged  to  be  good,  though  we  do  not  conceive  them 
to  exist  out  of  relation  to  human  beings  (or  at  least  minds  of 
some  kind),  are  yet  so  far  separable  as  ends  from  the  human 
beings  on  whom  their  existence  depends,  that  their  realization 
may  conceivably  come  into  competition  with  the  perfection 
or  happiness  of  these  beings.  Thus,  though  beautiful  things 
cannot  be  thought  worth  producing  except  as  possible  objects 
of  contemplation,  still  a man  may  devote  himself  to  their 
production  without  any  consideration  of  the  persons  who  are 
to  contemplate  them.  Similarly  knowledge  is  a good  which 
cannot  exist  except  in  minds;  and  yet  one  may  be  more 
interested  in  the  development  of  knowledge  than  in  its  possession 
by  any  particular  minds;  and  may  take  the  former  as  an 
ultimate  end  without  regarding  the  latter. 

“Still,  as  soon  as  the  alternatives  are  clearly  apprehended, 
it  will,  I think,  be  generally  held  that  beauty,  knowledge,  and 
other  ideal  goods,  as  well  as  all  external  material  things,  are 
only  reasonably  to  be  sought  by  men  in  so  far  as  they  conduce 
(1)  to  Happiness  or  (2)  to  the  Perfection  or  Excellence  of 
human  existence.  I say  ‘human,’  for  though  most  utilitarians 
consider  the  pleasure  (and  freedom  from  pain)  of  the  inferior 
animals  to  be  included  in  the  Happiness  which  they  take  as  the 
right  and  proper  end  of  conduct,  no  one  seems  to  contend  that 
we  ought  to  aim  at  perfecting  brutes  except  as  a means  to  our 
ends,  or  at  least  as  objects  of  scientific  or  aesthetic  contemplation 
for  us.  Nor,  again,  can  we  include,  as  a practical  end,  the 
existence  of  beings  above  the  human.  We  certainly  apply  the 
idea  of  Good  to  the  Divine  Existence,  just  as  we  do  to  His 
work,  and  indeed  in  a preeminent  manner : and  when  it  is  said 
that,  ‘we  should  do  all  things  to  the  glory  of  God,’  it  may  seem 
to  be  implied  that  the  existence  of  God  is  made  better  by  our 
glorifying  Him.  Still  this  inference  when  explicitly  drawn 
appears  somewhat  impious;  and  theologians  generally  recoil  from 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


83 


it,  and  refrain  from  using  the  notion  of  a possible  addition  to 
the  Goodness  of  the  Divine  Existence  as  a ground  of  human 
duty.  Nor  can  the  influence  of  our  actions  on  other  extra- 
human intelligences  besides  the  Divine  be  at  present  made 
matter  of  scientific  discussion. 

“I  shall  therefore  confidently  lay  down,  that  if  there  be  any 
Good  other  than  Happiness  to  be  sought  by  man,  as  an  ultimate 
practical  end,  it  can  only  be  the  Goodness,  Perfection,  or 
Excellence  of  Human  Existence.  How  far  this  notion  includes 
more  than  Virtue,  what  its  precise  relation  to  Pleasure  is,  and 
to  what  method  we  shall  be  logically  led  if  we  accept  it  as 
fundamental,  are  questions  which  we  shall  more  conveniently 
discuss  after  the  detailed  examination  of  these  two  other 
notions.  Pleasure  and  Virtue,  in  which  we  shall  be  engaged  in 
the  two  following  Books.” 

It  will  be  observed  that  in  this  passage  Prof.  Sidgwick  tries 
to  limit  the  range  of  objects  among  which  the  ultimate  end 
may  be  found.  He  does  not  yet  say  what  that  end  is,  but 
he  does  exclude  from  it  everything  but  certain  characters  of 
Human  Existence.  And  the  possible  ends,  which  he  thus 
excludes,  do  not  again  come  up  for  consideration.  They  are 
put  out  of  court  once  for  all  by  this  passage  and  by  this  passage 
only.  Now  is  this  exclusion  justified? 

I cannot  think  it  is.  ‘No  one,’  says  Prof.  Sidgwick,  ‘would 
consider  it  rational  to  aim  at  the  production  of  beauty  in 
external  nature,  apart  from  any  possible  contemplation  of  it  by 
human  beings.’  Well,  I may  say  at  once,  that  I,  for  one,  do 
consider  this  rational ; and  let  us  see  if  I cannot  get  any  one 
to  agree  with  me.  Consider  what  this  admission  really  means. 
It  entitles  us  to  put  the  following  case.  Let  us  imagine  one 
world  exceedingly  beautiful.  Imagine  it  as  beautiful  as  you 
can;  put  into  it  whatever  on  this  earth  you  most  admire — 
mountains,  rivers,  the  sea ; trees,  and  sunsets,  stars  and  moon. 
Imagine  these  all  combined  in  the  most  exquisite  proportions, 
so  that  no  one  thing  jars  against  another,  but  each  contributes 
to  increase  the  beauty  of  the  whole.  And  then  imagine  the 
ugliest  world  you  can  possibly  conceive.  Imagine  it  simply 
one  heap  of  filth,  containing  everything  that  is  most  disgusting 


84 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


to  US,  for  whatever  reason,  and  the  whole,  as  far  as  may  be, 
without  one  redeeming  feature.  Such  a pair  of  worlds  we  are 
entitled  to  compare:  they  fall  within  Prof.  Sidgwick’s  meaning, 
and  the  comparison  is  highly  relevant  to  it.  The  only  thing 
we  are  not  entitled  to  imagine  is  that  any  human  being  ever 
has  or  ever,  by  any  possibility,  can,  live  in  either,  can  ever  see 
and  enjoy  the  beauty  of  the  one  or  hate  the  foulness  of  the 
other.  Well,  even  so,  supposing  them  quite  apart  from  any 
possible  contemplation  by  human  beings;  still,  is  it  irrational 
to  hold  that  it  is  better  that  the  beautiful  world  should  exist, 
than  the  one  which  is  ugly?  Would  it  not  be  well,  in  any  case, 
to  do  what  we  could  to  produce  it  rather  than  the  other? 
Certainly  I cannot  help  thinking  that  it  would;  and  I hope 
that  some  may  agree  with  me  in  this  extreme  instance.  The 
instance  is  extreme.  It  is  highly  improbable,  not  to  say,  im- 
possible, we  should  ever  have  such  a choice  before  us.  In 
any  actual  choice  we  should  have  to  consider  the  possible 
effects  of  our  action  upon  conscious  beings,  and  among  these 
possible  effects  there  are  always  some,  I think,  which  ought  to 
be  preferred  to  the  existence  of  mere  beauty.  But  this  only 
means  that  in  our  present  state,  in  which  but  a very  small 
portion  of  the  good  is  attainable,  the  pursuit  of  beauty  for  its 
own  sake  must  always  be  postponed  to  the  pursuit  of  some 
greater  good,  which  is  equally  attainable.  But  it  is  enough 
for  my  purpose,  if  it  be  admitted  that,  supposing  no  greater 
good  were  at  all  attainable,  then  beauty  must  in  itself  be 
regarded  as  a greater  good  than  ugliness;  if  it  be  admitted 
that,  in  that  case,  we  should  not  be  left  without  any  reason 
for  preferring  one  course  of  action  to  another,  we  should  not 
be  left  without  any  duty  whatever,  but  that  it  would  then  be 
our  positive  duty  to  make  the  world  more  beautiful,  so  far  as 
we  were  able,  since  nothing  better  than  beauty  could  then  result 
from  our  efforts.  If  this  be  once  admitted,  if  in  any  imaginable 
case  you  do  admit  that  the  existence  of  a more  beautiful  thing 
is  better  in  itself  than  that  of  one  more  ugly,  quite  apart  from 
its  effects  on  any  human  feeling,  then  Prof.  Sidgwick’s  principle 
has  broken  down.  Then  we  shall  have  to  include  in  our  ultimate 
end  something  beyond  the  limits  of  human  existence.  I admit, 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


85 


of  course,  that  our  beautiful  world  would  be  better  still,  if  there 
were  human  beings  in  it  to  contemplate  and  enjoy  its  beauty. 
But  that  admission  makes  nothing  against  my  point.  If  it  be 
once  admitted  that  the  beautiful  world  in  itself  is  better  than 
the  ugly,  then  it  follows,  that  however  many  beings  may  enjoy 
it,  and  however  much  better  their  enjoyment  may  be  than  it  is 
itself,  yet  its  mere  existence  adds  something  to  the  goodness  of 
the  whole:  it  is  not  only  a means  to  our  end,  but  also  itself 
a part  thereof. 

51.  In  the  second  passage  to  which  I referred  above. 
Prof.  Sidgwick  returns  from  the  discussion  of  Virtue  and 
Pleasure,  with  which  he  has  meanwhile  been  engaged,  to 
consider  what  among  the  parts  of  Human  Existence  to  which, 
as  we  saw,  he  has  limited  the  ultimate  end,  can  really  be 
considered  as  such  end.  What  I have  just  said,  of  course, 
appears  to  me  to  destroy  the  force  of  this  part  of  his  argument 
too.  If,  as  I think,  other  things  than  any  part  of  Human 
Existence  can  be  ends-in-themselves,  then  Prof.  Sidgwick 
cannot  claim  to  have  discovered  the  Summum  Bonum,  when 
he  has  merely  determined  what  parts  of  Human  Existence  are 
in  themselves  desirable.  But  this  error  may  be  admitted  to 
be  utterly  insignificant  in  comparison  with  that  which  we  are 
now  about  to  discuss. 

“It  may  be  said,”  says  Prof  Sidgwick  (III.  xiv.  §§4 — 5),  “that 
we  may... regard  cognition  of  Truth,  contemplation  of  Beauty, 
Free  or  Virtuous  action,  as  in  some  measure  preferable  alterna- 
tives to  Pleasure  or  Happiness — even  though  we  admit  that 
Happiness  must  be  included  as  a part  of  Ultimate  Good.... I 
think,  however,  that  this  view  ought  not  to  commend  itself  to 
the  sober  judgment  of  reflective  persons.  In  order  to  shew  this, 
I must  ask  the  reader  to  use  the  same  twofold  procedure  that 
I before  requested  him  to  employ  in  considering  the  absolute 
and  independent  validity  of  common  moral  precepts.  I appeal 
firstly  to  his  intuitive  judgment  after  due  consideration  of  the 
question  when  fairly  placed  before  it:  and  secondly  to  a com- 
prehensive comparison  of  the  ordinary  judgments  of  mankind. 
As  regards  the  first  argument,  to  me  at  least  it  seems  clear 
after  reflection  that  these  objective  relations  of  the  conscious 


86 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


subject,  when  distinguished  from  the  consciousness  accompany- 
ing and  resulting  from  them,  are  not  ultimately  and  intrinsically 
desirable;  any  more  than  material  or  other  objects  are,  when 
considered  apart  from  any  relation  to  conscious  existence.  Ad- 
mitting that  we  have  actual  experience  of  such  preferences 
as  have  just  been  described,  of  which  the  ultimate  object  is 
something  that  is  not  merely  consciousness:  it  still  seems  to 
me  that  when  (to  use  Butler’s  phrase)  we  ‘ sit  down  in  a cool 
hour,’  we  can  only  justify  to  ourselves  the  importance  that  we 
attach  to  any  of  these  objects  by  considering  its  conduciveness, 
in  one  way  or  another,  to  the  happiness  of  sentient  beings. 

“The  second  argument,  that  refers  to  the  common  sense  of 
mankind,  obviously  cannot  be  made  completely  cogent;  since, 
as  above  stated,  several  cultivated  persons  do  habitually  judge 
that  knowledge,  art,  etc., — not  to  speak  of  Virtue — are  ends 
independently  of  the  pleasure  derived  from  them.  But  we  may 
urge  not  only  that  all  these  elements  of  ‘ideal  good’  are 
productive  of  pleasure  in  various  ways;  but  also  that  they  seem 
to  obtain  the  commendation  of  Common  Sense,  roughly  speaking, 
in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  this  productiveness.  This  seems 
obviously  true  of  Beauty ; and  will  hardly  be  denied  in  respecu 
of  any  kind  of  social  ideal : it  is  paradoxical  to  maintain  that 
any  degree  of  Freedom,  or  any  form  of  social  order,  would  still 
be  commonly  regarded  as  desirable  even  if  we  were  certain  that 
it  had  no  tendency  to  promote  the  general  happiness.  The 
case  of  Knowledge  is  rather  more  complex;  but  certainly 
Common  Sense  is  most  impressed  with  the  value  of  knowledge, 
when  its  ‘ fruitfulness  ’ has  been  demonstrated.  It  is,  however, 
aware  that  experience  has  frequently  shewn  how  knowledge, 
long  fruitless,  may  become  unexpectedly  fruitful,  and  how  light 
may  be  shed  on  one  part  of  the  field  of  knowledge  from  another 
apparently  remote:  and  even  if  any  particular  branch  of  scientific 
pursuit  could  be  shewn  to  be  devoid  of  even  this  indirect  utility, 
it  would  still  deserve  some  respect  on  utilitarian  grounds;  both 
as  furnishing  to  the  inquirer  the  refined  and  innocent  pleasures 
of  curiosity,  and  because  the  intellectual  disposition  which  it 
exhibits  and  sustains  is  likely  on  the  whole  to  produce  fruitful 
knowledge.  Still  in  cases  approximating  to  this  last.  Common 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


87 


Sense  is  somewhat  disposed  to  complain  of  the  mis-direction  of 
valuable  effort ; so  that  the  meed  of  honour  commonly  paid  to 
Science  seems  to  be  graduated,  though  perhaps  unconsciously, 
by  a tolerably  exact  utilitarian  scale.  Certainly  the  moment 
the  legitimacy  of  any  branch  of  scientific  inquiry  is  seriously 
disputed,  as  in  the  recent  case  of  vivisection,  the  controversy 
on  both  sides  is  generally  conducted  on  an  avowedly  utilitarian 
basis. 

“The  case  of  Virtue  requires  special  consideration:  since 
the  encouragement  in  each  other  of  virtuous  impulses  and 
dispositions  is  a main  aim  of  men’s  ordinary  moral  discourse; 
so  that  even  to  raise  the  question  whether  this  encouragement 
can  go  too  far  has  a paradoxical  air.  Still,  our  experience 
includes  rare  and  exceptional  cases  in  which  the  concentration 
of  effort  on  the  cultivation  of  virtue  has  seemed  to  have  effects 
adverse  to  general  happiness,  through  being  intensified  to  the 
point  of  moral  fanaticism,  and  so  involving  a neglect  of  other 
conditions  of  happiness.  If,  then,  we  admit  as  actual  or  possible 
such  ‘infelicific’  effects  of  the  cultivation  of  Virtue,  I think  we 
shall  also  generally  admit  that,  in  the  case  supposed,  conducive- 
ness to  general  happiness  should  be  the  criterion  for  deciding 
how  far  the  cultivation  of  Virtue  should  be  carried.” 

There  we  have  Prof.  Sidgwick’s  argument  completed.  We 
ought  not,  he  thinks,  to  aim  at  knowing  the  Truth,  or  at 
contemplating  Beauty,  except  in  so  far  as  such  knowledge  or 
such  contemplation  contributes  to  increase  the  pleasure  or  to 
diminish  the  pain  of  sentient  beings.  Pleasure  alone  is  good 
for  its  own  sake:  knowledge  of  the  Truth  is  good  only  as  a 
means  to  pleasure. 

52.  Let  us  consider  what  this  means.  What  is  pleasure  ? 
It  is  certainly  something  of  which  we  may  be  conscious,  and 
which,  therefore,  may  be  distinguished  from  our  consciousness 
of  it.  What  I wish  first  to  ask  is  this:  Can  it  really  be  said 
that  we  value  pleasure,  except  in  so  far  as  we  are  conscious  of 
it  ? Should  we  think  that  the  attainment  of  pleasure,  of  which 
we  never  were  and  never  could  be  conscious,  was  something 
to  be  aimed  at  for  its  own  sake?  It  may  be  impossible  that 
such  pleasure  should  ever  exist,  that  it  should  ever  be  thus 


88 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


divorced  from  consciousness;  although  there  is  certainly  much 
reason  to  believe  that  it  is  not  only  possible  but  very  common. 
But,  even  supposing  that  it  were  impossible,  that  is  quite 
irrelevant.  Our  question  is:  Is  it  the  pleasure,  as  distinct  from 
the  consciousness  of  it,  that  we  set  value  on  ? Do  we  think  the 
pleasure  valuable  in  itself,  or  must  we  insist  that,  if  we  are  to 
think  the  pleasure  good,  we  must  have  consciousness  of  it  too? 

This  consideration  is  very  well  put  by  Socrates  in  Plato’s 
dialogue  Philehus  (21  a). 

‘Would  you  accept,  Protarchus,’  says  Socrates,  ‘to  live  your 
whole  life  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  greatest  pleasures  ? ’ ‘Of 
course  I would,’  says  Protarchus. 

Socrates.  Then  would  you  think  you  needed  anything  else 
besides,  if  you  possessed  this  one  blessing  in  completeness  ? 

Protarchus.  Certainly  not. 

Socrates.  Consider  what  you  are  saying.  You  would  not 
need  to  be  wise  and  intelligent  and  reasonable,  nor  anything 
like  this?  Would  you  not  even  care  to  keep  your  sight? 

Protarchus.  Why  should  I?  I suppose  I should  have  all 
I want,  if  I was  pleased. 

Socrates.  Well,  then,  supposing  you  lived  so,  you  would 
enjoy  always  throughout  your  life  the  greatest  pleasure  ? 

Protarchus.  Of  course. 

Socrates.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  inasmuch  as  you  would 
not  possess  intelligence  and  memory  and  knowledge  and  true 
opinion,  you  would,  in  the  first  place,  necessarily  be  without  the 
knowledge  whether  you  were  pleased  or  not.  For  you  would 
be  devoid  of  any  kind  of  wisdom.  You  admit  this  ? 

Protarchus.  I do.  The  consequence  is  absolutely  necessary. 

Socrates.  Well,  then,  besides  this,  not  having  memory,  you 
must  also  be  unable  to  remember  even  that  you  ever  were 
pleased;  of  the  pleasure  which  falls  upon  you  at  the  moment 
not  the  least  vestige  must  afterwards  remain.  And  again,  not 
having  true  opinion,  you  cannot  think  that  you  are  pleased 
when  you  are;  and,  being  bereft  of  your  reasoning  faculties, 
you  cannot  even  have  the  power  to  reckon  that  you  will  be 
pleased  in  future.  You  must  live  the  life  of  an  oyster,  or 
of  some  other  of  those  living  creatures,  whose  home  is  the  seas 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


89 


and  whose  souls  are  concealed  in  shelly  bodies.  Is  all  this  so,  or 
can  we  think  otherwise  than  this  ? 

Protarchus.  How  can  we  ? 

Socrates.  Well,  then,  can  we  think  such  a life  desirable  ? 

Protarchus.  Socrates,  your  reasoning  has  left  me  utterly 
dumb.’ 

Socrates,  we  see,  persuades  Protarchus  that  Hedonism  is 
absurd.  If  we  are  really  going  to  maintain  that  pleasure  alone 
is  good  as  an  end,  we  must  maintain  that  it  is  good,  whether  we 
are  conscious  of  it  or  not.  We  must  declare  it  reasonable  to 
take  as  our  ideal  (an  unattainable  ideal  it  may  be)  that  we 
should  be  as  happy  as  possible,  even  on  condition  that  w'e  never 
know  and  never  can  know  that  we  are  happy.  We  must  be 
willing  to  sell  in  exchange  for  the  mere  happiness  every  vestige 
of  knowledge,  both  in  ourselves  and  in  others,  both  of  happiness 
itself  and  of  every  other  thing.  Can  we  really  still  disagree  ? 
Can  any  one  still  declare  it  obvious  that  this  is  reasonable  ? 
That  pleasure  alone  is  good  as  an  end  ? 

The  case,  it  is  plain,  is  just  like  that  of  the  colours ^ only, 
as  yet,  not  nearly  so  strong.  It  is  far  more  possible  that  we 
should  some  day  be  able  to  produce  the  intensest  pleasure, 
without  any  consciousness  that  it  is  there,  than  that  we  should 
be  able  to  produce  mere  colour,  without  its  being  any  particular 
colour.  Pleasure  and  consciousness  can  be  far  more  easily 
distinguished  from  one  another,  than  colour  from  the  particular 
colours.  And  yet  even  if  this  were  not  so,  we  should  be  bound 
to  distinguish  them  if  we  really  wished  to  declare  pleasure 
alone  to  be  our  ultimate  end.  Even  if  consciousness  were  an 
inseparable  accompaniment  of  pleasure,  a sine  qua  non  of  its 
existence,  yet,  if  pleasure  is  the  only  end,  we  are  bound  to  call 
consciousness  a mere  means  to  it,  in  any  intelligible  sense  that 
can  be  given  to  the  word  means.  And  if,  on  the  other  hand, 
as  I hope  is  now  plain,  the  pleasure  would  be  comparatively 
valueless  without  the  consciousness,  then  we  are  bound  to  say 
that  pleasure  is  not  the  only  end,  that  some  consciousness 
at  least  must  be  included  with  it  as  a veritable  part  of  the 
end. 


1 § 48  sup. 


90 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


For  our  question  now  is  solely  what  the  end  is;  it  is  quite 
another  question  how  far  that  end  may  be  attainable  hy  itself, 
or  must  involve  the  simultaneous  attainment  of  other  things. 
It  may  well  be  that  the  practical  conclusions  at  which  Utili- 
tarians do  arrive,  and  even  those  at  which  they  ought  logically 
to  arrive,  are  not  far  from  the  truth.  But  in  so  far  as  their 
reason  for  holding  these  conclusions  to  be  true  is  that  ‘ Pleasure 
alone  is  good  as  an  end,’  they  are  absolutely  wrong : and  it  is 
with  reasons  that  we  are  chiefly  concerned  in  any  scientific  Ethics. 

53.  It  seems,  then,  clear  that  Hedonism  is  in  error,  so  far 
as  it  maintains  that  pleasure  alone,  and  not  the  consciousness 
of  pleasure,  is  the  sole  good.  And  this  error  seems  largely  due 
to  the  fallacy  which  I pointed  out  above  in  Mill — the  fallacy 
of  confusing  means  and  end.  It  is  falsely  supposed  that,  since 
pleasure  must  always  be  accompanied  by  consciousness  (which 
is,  itself,  extremely  doubtful),  therefore  it  is  indifferent  whether 
we  say  that  pleasure  or  the  consciousness  of  pleasure  is  the  sole 
good.  Practically,  of  course,  it  would  be  indifferent  at  which 
we  aimed,  if  it  were  certain  that  we  could  not  get  the  one  with- 
out the  other;  but  where  the  question  is  of  what  is  good  in 
itself — where  we  ask : For  the  sake  of  what  is  it  desirable  to 
get  that  which  we  aim  at  ? — the  distinction  is  by  no  means 
unimportant.  Here  we  are  placed  before  an  exclusive  alter- 
native. Either  pleasure  by  itself  (even  though  we  can’t  get  it) 
would  be  all  that  is  desirable,  or  a consciousness  of  it  would  be 
more  desirable  still.  Both  these  propositions  cannot  be  true; 
and  I think  it  is  plain  that  the  latter  is  true ; whence  it  follows 
that  pleasure  is  not  the  sole  good. 

Still  it  may  be  said  that,  even  if  consciousness  of  pleasure, 
and  not  pleasure  alone,  is  the  sole  good,  this  conclusion  is  not 
very  damaging  to  Hedonism.  It  may  be  said  that  Hedonists 
have  always  meant  by  pleasure  the  consciousness  of  pleasure, 
though  they  have  not  been  at  pains  to  say  so ; and  this,  I think 
is,  in  the  main,  true.  To  correct  their  formula  in  this  respect 
could,  therefore,  only  be  a matter  of  practical  importance,  if 
it  is  possible  to  produce  pleasure  without  producing  conscious- 
ness of  it.  But  even  this  importance,  which  I think  our 
conclusion  so  far  really  has,  is,  I admit,  comparatively  slight. 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


91 


What  I wish  to  maintain  is  that  even  consciousness  of  pleasure 
is  not  the  sole  good : that,  indeed,  it  is  absurd  so  to  regard  it. 
And  the  chief  importance  of  what  has  been  said  so  far  lies  in 
the  fact  that  the  same  method,  which  shews  that  consciousness 
of  pleasure  is  more  valuable  than  pleasure,  seems  also  to  shew 
that  consciousness  of  pleasure  is  itself  far  less  valuable  than 
other  things.  The  supposition  that  consciousness  of  pleasure  is 
the  sole  good  is  due  to  a neglect  of  the  same  distinctions  which 
have  encouraged  the  careless  assertion  that  pleasure  is  the  sole 
good. 

The  method  which  I employed  in  order  to  shew  that  plea- 
sure itself  was  not  the  sole  good,  was  that  of  considering  what 
value  we  should  attach  to  it,  if  it  existed  in  absolute  isolation, 
stripped  of  all  its  usual  accompaniments.  And  this  is,  in  fact, 
the  only  method  that  can  be  safely  used,  when  we  wish  to 
discover  what  degree  of  value  a thing  has  in  itself.  The 
necessity  of  employing  this  method  will  be  best  exhibited  by 
a discussion  of  the  arguments  used  by  Prof.  Sidgwick  in  the 
passage  last  quoted,  and  by  an  exposure  of  the  manner  in  which 
they  are  calculated  to  mislead. 

54.  With  regard  to  the  second  of  them,  it  only  maintains 
that  other  things,  which  might  be  supposed  to  share  with 
pleasure  the  attribute  of  goodness,  'seem  to  obtain  the  com- 
mendation of  Common  Sense,  roughly  speaking,  in  proportion 
to  the  degree’  of  their  productiveness  of  pleasure.  Whether 
even  this  rough  proportion  holds  between  the  commendation 
of  Common  Sense  and  the  felicific  effects  of  that  which  it 
commends  is  a question  extremely  diflScult  to  determine ; and 
we  need  not  enter  into  it  here.  For,  even  assuming  it  to  be 
true,  and  assuming  the  judgments  of  Common  Sense  to  be  on 
the  whole  correct,  what  would  it  shew?  It  would  shew,  certainly, 
that  pleasure  was  a good  criterion  of  right  action — that  the 
same  conduct  which  produced  most  pleasure  would  also  produce 
most  good  on  the  whole.  But  this  would  by  no  means  entitle 
us  to  the  conclusion  that  the  greatest  pleasure  constituted  what 
was  best  on  the  whole : it  would  still  leave  open  the  alternative 
that  the  greatest  quantity  of  pleasure  was  as  a matter  of  fact, 
under  actual  conditions,  generally  accompanied  by  the  greatest 


92 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


quantity  of  other  goods,  and  that  it  therefore  was  not  the  sole 
good.  It  might  indeed  seem  to  be  a strange  coincidence  that 
these  two  things  should  always,  even  in  this  world,  be  in  pro- 
portion to  one  another.  But  the  strangeness  of  this  coincidence 
will  certainly  not  entitle  us  to  argue  directly  that  it  does  not 
exist — that  it  is  an  illusion,  due  to  the  fact  that  pleasure  is 
really  the  sole  good.  The  coincidence  may  be  susceptible  of 
other  explanations ; and  it  would  even  be  our  duty  to  accept  it 
unexplained,  if  direct  intuition  seemed  to  declare  that  pleasure 
was  not  the  sole  good.  Moreover  it  must  be  remembered  that 
the  need  for  assuming  such  a coincidence  rests  in  any  case  upon 
the  extremely  doubtful  proposition  that  felicific  effects  are 
roughly  in  proportion  to  the  approval  of  Common  Sense.  And 
it  should  be  observed  that,  though  Prof.  Sidgwick  maintains 
this  to  be  the  case,  his  detailed  illustrations  only  tend  to  shew 
the  very  different  proposition  that  a thing  is  not  held  to  be 
good,  unless  it  gives  a balance  of  pleasure ; not  that  the  degree 
of  commendation  is  in  proportion  to  the  quantity  of  pleasure. 

55.  The  decision,  then,  must  rest  upon  Prof  Sidgwick’s 
first  argument — ‘the  appeal’  to  our  ‘intuitive  judgment  after 
due  consideration  of  the  question  when  fairly  placed  before  it.’ 
And  here  it  seems  to  me  plain  that  Prof  Sidgwick  has  failed, 
in  two  essential  respects,  to  place  the  question  fairly  before 
either  himself  or  his  reader. 

(1)  What  he  has  to  shew  is,  as  he  says  himself,  not  merely 
that  ‘ Happiness  must  be  included  as  a part  of  Ultimate  Good.’ 
This  view,  he  says,  ‘ ought  not  to  commend  itself  to  the  sober 
judgment  of  reflective  persons.’  And  why  ? Because  ‘ these 
objective  relations,  when  distinguished  from  the  consciousness 
accompanying  and  resulting  from  them,  are  not  ultimately  and 
intrinsically  desirable.’  Now,  this  reason,  which  is  offered  as 
shewing  that  to  consider  Happiness  as  a mere  part  of  Ultimate 
Good  does  not  meet  the  facts  of  intuition,  is,  on  the  contrary, 
only  sufficient  to  shew  that  it  is  a part  of  Ultimate  Good.  For 
from  the  fact  that  no  value  resides  in  one  part  of  a whole, 
considered  by  itself,  we  cannot  infer  that  all  the  value  belonging 
to  the  whole  does  reside  in  the  other  part,  considered  by  itself 
Even  if  we  admit  that  there  is  much  value  in  the  enjoyment  of 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


93 


Beauty,  and  none  in  the  mere  contemplation  of  it,  which  is 
one  of  the  constituents  of  that  complex  fact,  it  does  not  follow 
that  all  the  value  belongs  to  the  other  constituent,  namely 
the  pleasure  which  we  take  in  contemplating  it.  It  is  quite 
possible  that  this  constituent  also  has  no  value  in  itself ; that 
the  value  belongs  to  the  whole  state,  and  to  that  only : so  that 
both  the  pleasure  and  the  contemplation  are  mere  parts  of  the 
good,  and  both  of  them  equally  necessary  parts.  In  short. 
Prof.  Sidgwick’s  argument  here  depends  upon  the  neglect  of 
that  principle,  which  I tried  to  explain  in  my  first  chapter  and 
which  I said  I should  call  the  principle  of  ‘ organic  relations^’ 
The  argument  is  calculated  to  mislead,  because  it  supposes 
that,  if  we  see  a whole  state  to  be  valuable,  and  also  see  that 
one  element  of  that  state  has  no  value  by  itself,  then  the  other 
element,  by  itself,  must  have  all  the  value  which  belongs  to  the 
whole  state.  The  fact  is,  on  the  contrary,  that,  since  the  whole 
may  be  organic,  the  other  element  need  have  no  value  whatever, 
and  that  even  if  it  have  some,  the  value  of  the  whole  may  be 
very  much  greater.  For  this  reason,  as  well  as  to  avoid  confusion 
between  means  and  end,  it  is  absolutely  essential  to  consider 
each  distinguishable  quality,  in  isolation,  in  order  to  decide  what 
value  it  possesses.  Prof.  Sidgwick,  on  the  other  hand,  applies 
this  method  of  isolation  only  to  one  element  in  the  wholes  he  is 
considering.  He  does  not  ask  the  question : If  consciousness 
of  pleasure  existed  absolutely  by  itself,  would  a sober  judgment 
be  able  to  attribute  much  value  to  it  ? It  is,  in  fact,  always 
misleading  to  take  a whole,  that  is  valuable  (or  the  reverse),  and 
then  to  ask  simply : To  which  of  its  constituents  does  this  whole 
owe  its  value  or  its  vileness  ? It  may  well  be  that  it  owes  it  to 
none',  and,  if  one  of  them  does  appear  to  have  some  value  in 
itself,  we  shall  be  led  into  the  grave  error  of  supposing  that  all 
the  value  of  the  whole  belongs  to  it  alone.  It  seems  to  me  that 
this  error  has  commonly  been  committed  with  regard  to  pleasure. 
Pleasure  does  seem  to  be  a necessary  constituent  of  most  valuable 
wholes ; and,  since  the  other  constituents,  into  which  we  may 
analyse  them,  may  easily  seem  not  to  have  any  value,  it  is 
natural  to  suppose  that  all  the  value  belongs  to  pleasure.  That 

1 pp.  27—30,  36. 


94 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


this  natural  supposition  does  not  follow  from  the  premises  is 
certain;  and  that  it  is,  on  the  contrary,  ridiculously  far  from 
the  truth  appears  evident  to  my  ‘reflective  judgment.’  If  we 
apply  either  to  pleasure  or  to  consciousness  of  pleasure  the  only 
safe  method,  that  of  isolation,  and  ask  ourselves : Could  we 
accept,  as  a very  good  thing,  that  mere  consciousness  of  pleasure, 
and  absolutely  nothing  else,  should  exist,  even  in  the  greatest 
quantities?  I think  we  can  have  no  doubt  about  answering: 
No.  Far  less  can  we  accept  this  as  the  sole  good.  Even  if  we 
accept  Prof  Sidgwick’s  implication  (which  yet  appears  to  me 
extremely  doubtful)  that  consciousness  of  pleasure  has  a greater 
value  by  itself  than  Contemplation  of  Beauty,  it  seems  to  me 
that  a pleasurable  Contemplation  of  Beauty  has  certainly  an 
immeasurably  greater  value  than  mere  Consciousness  of  Pleasure. 
In  favour  of  this  conclusion  I can  appeal  with  confidence  to  the 
‘ sober  judgment  of  reflective  persons.’ 

56.  (2)  That  the  value  of  a pleasurable  whole  does  not 

belong  solely  to  the  pleasure  which  it  contains,  may,  I think, 
be  made  still  plainer  by  consideration  of  another  point  in  which 
Prof  Sidgwick’s  argument  is  defective.  Prof  Sidgwick  main- 
tains, as  we  saw,  the  doubtful  proposition,  that  the  conduciveness 
to  pleasure  of  a thing  is  in  rough  proportion  to  its  commenda- 
tion by  Common  Sense.  But  he  does  not  maintain,  what  would 
be  undoubtedly  false,  that  the  pleasantness  of  every  state  is  in 
proportion  to  the  commendation  of  that  state.  In  other  words, 
it  is  only  when  you  take  into  account  the  whole  consequences  of 
any  state,  that  he  is  able  to  maintain  the  coincidence  of  quantity 
of  pleasure  with  the  objects  approved  by  Common  Sense.  If 
we  consider  each  state  by  itself,  and  ask  what  is  the  judgment 
of  Common  Sense  as  to  its  goodness  as  an  end,  quite  apart  from 
its  goodness  as  a means,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  Common 
Sense  holds  many  much  less  pleasant  states  to  be  better  than 
many  far  more  pleasant : that  it  holds,  with  Mill,  that  there  are 
higher  pleasures,  which  are  more  valuable,  though  less  pleasant, 
than  those  which  are  lower.  Prof  Sidgwick  might,  of  course, 
maintain  that  in  this  Common  Sense  is  merely  confusing  means 
and  ends : that  what  it  holds  to  be  better  as  an  end,  is  in 
reality  only  better  as  a means.  But  I think  his  argument  is 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


95 


defective  in  that  he  does  not  seem  to  see  sufficiently  plainly 
that,  as  far  as  intuitions  of  goodness  as  an  end  are  concerned, 
he  is  running  grossly  counter  to  Common  Sense ; that  he  does 
not  emphasise  sufficiently  the  distinction  between  immediate 
pleasantness  and  conduciveness  to  pleasure.  In  order  to  place 
fairly  before  us  the  question  what  is  good  as  an  end  we  must 
take  states  that  are  immediately  pleasant  and  ask  if  the  more 
pleasant  are  always  also  the  better ; and  whether,  if  some  that 
are  less  pleasant  appear  to  be  so,  it  is  only  because  we  think 
they  are  likely  to  increase  the  number  of  the  more  pleasant. 
That  Common  Sense  would  deny  both  these  suppositions,  and 
rightly  so,  appears  to  me  indubitable.  It  is  commonly  held 
that  certain  of  what  would  be  called  the  lowest  forms  of  sexual 
enjoyment,  for  instance,  are  positively  bad,  although  it  is  by 
no  means  clear  that  they  are  not  the  most  pleasant  states  we 
ever  experience.  Common  Sense  would  certainly  not  think  it 
a sufficient  justification  for  the  pursuit  of  what  Prof.  Sidgwick 
calls  the  ‘ refined  pleasures  ’ here  and  now,  that  they  are  the 
best  means  to  the  future  attainment  of  a heaven,  in  which  there 
would  be  no  more  refined  pleasures — no  contemplation  of  beauty, 
no  personal  affections — but  in  which  the  greatest  possible 
pleasure  would  be  obtained  by  a perpetual  indulgence  in 
bestiality.  Yet  Prof.  Sidgwick  would  be  bound  to  hold  that, 
if  the  greatest  possible  pleasure  could  be  obtained  in  this  way, 
and  if  it  were  attainable,  such  a state  of  things  would  be  a 
heaven  indeed,  and  that  all  human  endeavours  should  be  devoted 
to  its  realisation.  I venture  to  think  that  this  view  is  as  false 
as  it  is  paradoxical. 

57.  It  seems  to  me,  then,  that  if  we  place  fairly  before  us 
the  question : Is  consciousness  of  pleasure  the  sole  good  ? the 
answer  must  be:  No.  And  with  this  the  last  defence  of 
Hedonism  has  been  broken  down.  In  order  to  put  the  question 
fairly  we  must  isolate  consciousness  of  pleasure.  We  must  ask : 
Suppose  we  were  conscious  of  pleasure  only,  and  of  nothing  else, 
not  even  that  we  were  conscious,  would  that  state  of  things 
however  great  the  quantity,  be  very  desirable?  No  one,  I think, 
can  suppose  it  so.  On  the  other  hand,  it  seems  quite  plain, 
that  we  do  regard  as  very  desirable,  many  complicated  states 


96 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


of  mind  in  which  the  consciousness  of  pleasure  is  combined  with 
consciousness  of  other  things — states  which  we  call  ‘enjoyment 
of’  so  and  so.  If  this  is  correct,  then  it  follows  that  conscious- 
ness of  pleasure  is  not  the  sole  good,  and  that  many  other  states, 
in  which  it  is  included  as  a part,  are  much  better  than  it. 
Once  we  recognise  the  principle  of  organic  unities,  any  objec- 
tion to  this  conclusion,  founded  on  the  supposed  fact  that  the 
other  elements  of  such  states  have  no  value  in  themselves,  must 
disappear.  And  I do  not  know  that  I need  say  any  more  in 
refutation  of  Hedonism. 

58.  It  only  remains  to  say  something  of  the  two  forms  in 
which  a hedonistic  doctrine  is  commonly  held — Egoism  and 
Utilitarianism. 

Egoism,  as  a form  of  Hedonism,  is  the  doctrine  which  holds 
that  we  ought  each  of  us  to  pursue  our  own  greatest  happiness 
as  our  ultimate  end.  The  doctrine  will,  of  course,  admit  that 
sometimes  the  best  means  to  this  end  will  be  to  give  pleasure 
to  others ; we  shall,  for  instance,  by  so  doing,  procure  for  our- 
selves the  pleasures  of  sympathy,  of  freedom  from  interference, 
and  of  self-esteem ; and  these  pleasures,  which  we  may  procure 
by  sometimes  aiming  directly  at  the  happiness  of  other  persons, 
may  be  greater  than  any  we  could  otherwise  get.  Egoism  in 
this  sense  must  therefore  be  carefully  distinguished  from  Egoism 
in  another  sense,  the  sense  in  which  Altruism  is  its  proper 
opposite.  Egoism,  as  commonly  opposed  to  Altruism,  is  apt  to 
denote  merely  selfishness.  In  this  sense,  a man  is  an  egoist,  if 
all  his  actions  are  actually  directed  towards  gaining  pleasure 
for  himself ; whether  he  holds  that  he  ought  to  act  so,  because 
he  will  thereby  obtain  for  himself  the  greatest  possible  happi- 
ness on  the  whole,  or  not.  Egoism  may  accordingly  be  used  to 
denote  the  theory  that  we  should  always  aim  at  getting  pleasure 
for  ourselves,  because  that  is  the  best  means  to  the  ultimate  end, 
whether  the  ultimate  end  be  our  own  greatest  pleasure  or  not. 
Altruism,  on  the  other  hand,  may  denote  the  theory  that  we  ought 
always  to  aim  at  other  people’s  happiness,  on  the  ground  that 
this  is  the  best  means  of  securing  our  own  as  well  as  theirs. 
Accordingly  an  Egoist,  in  the  sense  in  which  I am  now  going 
to  talk  of  Egoism,  an  Egoist,  who  holds  that  his  own  greatest 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


97 


happiness  is  the  ultimate  end,  may  at  the  same  time  be  an 
Altruist : he  may  hold  that  he  ought  to  ‘ love  his  neighbour,’  as 
the  best  means  to  being  happy  himself.  And  conversely  an 
Egoist,  in  the  other  sense,  may  at  the  same  time  be  a Utili- 
tarian. He  may  hold  that  he  ought  always  to  direct  his  efforts 
towards  getting  pleasure  for  himself  on  the  ground  that  he  is 
thereby  most  likely  to  increase  the  general  sum  of  happiness. 

59.  I shall  say  more  later  about  this  second  kind  of  Egoism, 
this  anti-altruistic  Egoism,  this  Egoism  as  a doctrine  of  means. 
What  I am  now  concerned  with  is  that  utterly  distinct  kind  of 
Egoism,  which  holds  that  each  man  ought  rationally  to  hold : 
My  own  greatest  happiness  is  the  only  good  thing  there  is ; my 
actions  can  only  be  good  as  means,  in  so  far  as  they  help  to  win 
me  this.  This  is  a doctrine  which  is  not  much  held  by  writers 
now-a-days.  It  is  a doctrine  that  was  largely  held  by  English 
Hedonists  in  the  17th  and  18th  centuries:  it  is,  for  example, 
at  the  bottom  of  Hobbes’  Ethics.  But  even  the  English  school 
appear  to  have  made  one  step  forward  in  the  present  century : 
they  are  most  of  them  now-a-days  Utilitarians.  They  do  recog- 
nise that  if  my  own  happiness  is  good,  it  would  be  strange  that 
other  people’s  happiness  should  not  be  good  too. 

In  order  fully  to  expose  the  absurdity  of  this  kind  of  Egoism, 
it  is  necessary  to  examine  certain  confusions  upon  which  its 
plausibility  depends. 

The  chief  of  these  is  the  confusion  involved  in  the  concep- 
tion of  ‘ my  own  good  ’ as  distinguished  from  ‘ the  good  of  others.’ 
This  is  a conception  which  we  all  use  every  day ; it  is  one  of  the 
first  to  which  the  plain  man  is  apt  to  appeal  in  discussing  any 
question  of  Ethics : and  Egoism  is  commonly  advocated  chiefly 
because  its  meaning  is  not  clearly  perceived.  It  is  plain,  in- 
deed, that  the  name  ‘ Egoism  ’ more  properly  applies  to  the 
theory  that  ‘ my  own  good  ’ is  the  sole  good,  than  that  my  own 
pleasure  is  so.  A man  may  quite  well  be  an  Egoist,  even  if  he 
be  not  a Hedonist.  The  conception  which  is,  perhaps,  most 
closely  associated  with  Egoism  is  that  denoted  by  the  words  ‘ my 
own  interest.’  The  Egoist  is  the  man  who  holds  that  a tendency 
to  promote  his  own  interest  is  the  sole  possible,  and  sufficient, 
iustification  of  all  his  actions.  But  this  conception  of  ‘ my  own 


98 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


interest  ’ plainly  includes,  in  general,  very  much  more  than  my 
own  pleasure.  It  is,  indeed,  only  because  and  in  so  far  as  ‘ my 
own  interest’  has  been  thought  to  consist  solely  in  my  own 
pleasure,  that  Egoists  have  been  led  to  hold  that  my  own 
pleasure  is  the  sole  good.  Their  course  of  reasoning  is  as  follows: 
The  only  thing  I ought  to  secure  is  my  own  interest ; but  my 
own  interest  consists  in  my  greatest  possible  pleasure;  and 
therefore  the  only  thing  I ought  to  pursue  is  my  own  pleasure. 
That  it  is  very  natural,  on  reflection,  thus  to  identify  my  own 
pleasure  with  my  own  interest ; and  that  it  has  been  generally 
done  by  modern  moralists,  may  be  admitted.  But,  when  Prof. 
Sidgwick  points  this  out  (ill.  xiv.  § 5,  Div.  ill.),  he  should  have  also 
pointed  out  that  this  identification  has  by  no  means  been  made  in 
ordinary  thought.  When  the  plain  man  says  ‘ my  own  interest, 
he  does  not  mean  ‘my  own  pleasure’ — he  does  not  commonly 
even  include  this — he  means  my  own  advancement,  my  own 
reputation,  the  getting  of  a better  income  etc.,  etc.  That  Prof. 
Sidgwick  should  not  have  noticed  this,  and  that  he  should  give 
the  reason  he  gives  for  the  fact  that  the  ancient  moralists  did 
not  identify  ‘ my  own  interest  ’ with  my  own  pleasure,  seems  to 
be  due  to  his  having  failed  to  notice  that  very  confusion  in  the 
conception  of  ‘ my  own  good  ’ which  I am  noAV  to  point  out. 
That  confusion  has,  perhaps,  been  more  clearly  perceived  by 
Plato  than  by  any  other  moralist,  and  to  point  it  out  suffices  to 
refute  Prof  Sidgwick’s  own  view  that  Egoism  is  rational. 

What,  then,  is  meant  by  ‘ my  own  good  ’ ? In  what  sense  can 
a thing  be  good  for  me  ? It  is  obvious,  if  we  reflect,  that  the 
only  thing  which  can  belong  to  me,  which  can  be  mine,  is  some- 
thing which  is  good,  and  not  the  fact  that  it  is  good.  When 
therefore,  I talk  of  anything  I get  as  ‘ my  own  good,’  I must 
mean  either  that  the  thing  I get  is  good,  or  that  my  possessing 
it  is  good.  In  both  cases  it  is  only  the  thing  or  the  possession 
of  it  which  is  inine,  and  not  the  goodness  of  that  thing  or  that 
possession.  There  is  no  longer  any  meaning  in  attaching  the 
‘ my  ’ to  our  predicate,  and  saying : The  possession  of  this  hy  me 
is  my  good.  Even  if  we  interpret  this  by  ‘ My  possession  of  this 
is  what  I think  good,’  the  same  still  holds : for  what  I think  is 
that  my  possession  of  it  is  good  simply ; and,  if  I think  rightly, 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


99 


then  the  truth  is  that  my  possession  of  it  is  good  simply — not, 
in  any  sense,  my  good ; and,  if  I think  wrongly,  it  is  not  good 
at  all.  In  short,  when  I talk  of  a thing  as  ‘ my  own  good  ’ all 
that  I can  mean  is  that  something  which  will  be  exclusively 
mine,  as  my  own  pleasure  is  mine  (whatever  be  the  various 
senses  of  this  relation  denoted  by  ‘ possession  ’),  is  also  good 
absolutely  ; or  rather  that  my  possession  of  it  is  good  absolutely. 
The  good  of  it  can  in  no  possible  sense  be  ‘private  ’ or  belong  to 
me  ; any  more  than  a thing  can  exist  privately  or  for  one  person 
only.  The  only  reason  I can  have  for  aiming  at  ‘ my  own  good,’ 
is  that  it  is  good  absolutely  that  what  I so  call  should  belong  to 
me — good  absolutely  that  I should  have  something,  which,  if  I 
have  it,  others  cannot  have.  But  if  it  is  good  absolutely  that  I 
should  have  it,  then  everyone  else  has  as  much  reason  for  aim- 
ing at  my  having  it,  as  I have  mysolf.  If,  therefore,  it  is  true 
of  any  single  man’s  ‘ interest  ’ or  ‘ happiness  ’ that  it  ought  to  be 
his  sole  ultimate  end,  this  can  only  mean  that  that  man’s  ‘ inter- 
est ’ or  ‘ happiness  ’ is  the  sole  good,  the  Universal  Good,  and  the 
only  thing  that  anybody  ought  to  aim  at.  What  Egoism  holds, 
therefore,  is  that  each  man’s  happiness  is  the  sole  good — that  a 
number  of  different  things  are  each  of  them  the  only  good  thing 
there  is — an  absolute  contradiction ! No  more  complete  and 
thorough  refutation  of  any  theory  could  be  desired. 

60.  Yet  Prof.  Sidgwick  holds  that  Egoism  is  rational ; and 
it  will  be  useful  briefly  to  consider  the  reasons  which  he  gives 
for  this  absurd  conclusion.  ‘ The  Egoist,’  he  says  (last  Chap.  § 1), 
‘may  avoid  the  proof  of  Utilitarianism  by  declining  to  affirm,’ 
either  ‘ implicitly  or  explicitly,  that  his  own  greatest  happiness 
is  not  merely  the  ultimate  rational  end  for  himself,  but  a part 
of  Universal  Good.’  And  in  the  passage  to  which  he  here 
refers  us,  as  having  there  ‘ seen  ’ this,  he  says  • ‘ It  cannot 
be  proved  that  the  difference  between  his  own  happiness  and 
another’s  happiness  is  not  for  him  all-important  ’ (iv.  ii.  § 1). 
What  does  Prof.  Sidgwick  mean  by  these  phrases  ‘ the  ultimate 
rational  end  for  himself,’  and  ‘for  him  all-important  ’ ? He  does 
not  attempt  to  define  them ; and  it  is  largely  the  use  of  such 
undefined  phrases  which  causes  absurdities  to  be  committed 
in  philosophy. 


100 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


Is  there  any  sense  in  which  a thing  can  be  an  ultimate 
rational  end  for  one  person  and  not  for  another  ? By  ‘ ultimate  ’ 
must  be  meant  at  least  that  the  end  is  good-in-itself — good 
in  our  undefinable  sense ; and  by  ‘ rational,’  at  least,  that  it  is 
truly  good.  That  a thing  should  be  an  ultimate  rational 
end  means,  then,  that  it  is  truly  good  in  itself;  and  that  it 
is  truly  good  in  itself  means  that  it  is  a part  of  Universal 
Good.  Can  we  assign  any  meaning  to  that  qualification  ‘ for 
himself,’  which  will  make  it  cease  to  be  a part  of  Universal 
Good  ? The  thing  is  impossible : for  the  Egoist’s  happiness 
must  either  be  good  in  itself,  and  so  a part  of  Universal  Good, 
or  else  it  cannot  be  good  in  itself  at  all ; there  is  no  escaping 
this  dilemma.  And  if  it  is  not  good  at  all,  what  reason  can  he 
have  for  aiming  at  it  ? how  can  it  be  a rational  end  for  him  ? 
That  qualification  ‘ for  himself’  has  no  meaning  unless  it  implies 
‘ not  for  others  ’ ; and  if  it  implies  ‘ not  for  others,’  then  it  cannot 
be  a rational  end  for  him,  since  it  cannot  be  truly  good  in 
itself;  the  phrase  ‘an  ultimate  rational  end  for  himself’  is  a 
contradiction  in  terms.  By  saying  that  a thing  is  an  end 
for  one  particular  person,  or  good  for  him,  can  only  be  meant 
one  of  four  things.  Either  (1)  it  may  be  meant  that  the 
end  in  question  is  something  which  will  belong  exclusively  to 
him  ; but  in  that  case,  if  it  is  to  be  rational  for  him  to  aim  at  it, 
that  he  should  exclusively  possess  it  must  be  a part  of  Universal 
Good.  Or  (2)  it  may  be  meant  that  it  is  the  only  thing  at 
which  he  ought  to  aim ; but  this  can  only  be,  because,  by  so 
doing,  he  will  do  the  most  he  can  towards  realising  Universal 
Good : and  this,  in  our  case,  will  only  give  Egoism  as  a doctrine 
of  means.  Or  (3)  it  may  be  meant  that  the  thing  is  what 
he  desires  or  thinks  good ; and  then,  if  he  thinks  wrongly,  it  is 
not  a rational  end  at  all,  and,  if  he  thinks  rightly,  it  is  a part 
of  Universal  Good.  Or  (4)  it  may  be  meant  that  it  is  peculiarly 
appropriate  that  a thing  which  will  belong  exclusively  to  him 
should  also  by  him  be  approved  or  aimed  at ; but,  in  this  case, 
both  that  it  should  belong  to  him  and  that  he  should  aim  at  it 
must  be  parts  of  Universal  Good : by  saying  that  a certain 
relation  between  two  things  is  fitting  or  appropriate,  we  can 
only  mean  that  the  existence  of  that  relation  is  absolutely  good 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


101 


in  itself  (unless  it  be  so  as  a means,  which  gives  case  (2)).  By 
no  possible  meaning,  then,  that  can  be  given  to  the  phrase  that 
his  own  happiness  is  the  ultimate  rational  end  for  himself  can 
the  Egoist  escape  the  implication  that  his  own  happiness  is 
absolutely  good;  and  by  saying  that  it  is  the  ultimate  rational 
end,  he  must  mean  that  it  is  the  only  good  thing— the  whole 
of  Universal  Good:  and,  if  he  further  maintains,  that  each 
man’s  happiness  is  the  ultimate  rational  end  for  him,  we 
have  the  fundamental  contradiction  of  Egoism — that  an  im- 
mense number  of  different  things  are,  each  of  them,  the  sole 
good.—KndL  it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  same  considerations  apply 
to  the  phrase  that  ‘the  difference  between  his  own  happiness 
and  another’s  is  for  him  all-important.  ’ This  can  only  mean 
either  (1)  that  his  own  happiness  is  the  only  end  which  will 
affect  him,  or  (2)  that  the  only  important  thing  for  him 
(as  a means)  is  to  look  to  his  own  happiness,  or  (3)  that  it 
is  only  his  own  happiness  which  he  cares  about,  or  (4)  that  it  is 
good  that  each  man’s  happiness  should  be  the  only  concern 
of  that  man.  And  none  of  these  propositions,  true  as  they  may 
be,  have  the  smallest  tendency  to  shew  that  if  his  own  happiness 
is  desirable  at  all,  it  is  not  a part  of  Universal  Good.  Either 
his  own  happiness  is  a good  thing  or  it  is  not;  and,  in  whatever 
sense  it  may  be  all-important  for  him,  it  must  be  true  that, 
if  it  is  not  good,  he  is  not  justified  in  pursuing  it,  and  that, 
if  it  is  good,  everyone  else  has  an  equal  reason  to  pursue  it, 
so  far  as  they  are  able  and  so  far  as  it  does  not  exclude  their 
attainment  of  other  more  valuable  parts  of  Universal  Good. 
In  short  it  is  plain  that  the  addition  of  ‘for  him’  ‘for  me’ 
to  such  words  as  ‘ultimate  rational  end,’  ‘good,’  ‘important’ 
can  introduce  nothing  but  confusion.  The  only  possible  reason 
that  can  justify  any  action  is  that  by  it  the  greatest  possible 
amount  of  what  is  good  absolutely  should  be  realised.  And 
if  anyone  says  that  the  attainment  of  his  own  happiness 
justifies  his  actions,  he  must  mean  that  this  is  the  greatest 
possible  amount  of  Universal  Good  which  he  can  realise.  And 
this  again  can  only  be  true  either  because  he  has  no  power 
to  realise  more,  in  which  case  he  only  holds  Egoism  as  a 
doctrine  of  means;  or  else  because  his  own  happiness  is  the 


5 


M 


102 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


greatest  amount  of  Universal  Good  which  can  be  realised  at  all, 
in  which  case  we  have  Egoism  proper,  and  the  flagrant  contra- 
diction that  every  person’s  happiness  is  singly  the  greatest 
amount  of  Universal  Good  which  can  be  realised  at  all. 

61.  It  should  be  observed  that,  since  this  is  so,  ‘the  relation 
of  Rational  Egoism  to  Rational  Benevolence,’  which  Prof. 
Sidgwick  regards  ‘as  the  profoundest  problem  of  Ethics’ 
(hi.  xiii.  § 5,  n.  1),  appears  in  quite  a different  light  to  that  in 
which  he  presents  it.  ‘Even  if  a man,’  he  says,  ‘admits  the  self- 
evidence of  the  principle  of  Rational  Benevolence,  he  may  still 
hold  that  his  own  happiness  is  an  end  which  it  is  irrational  for 
him  to  sacrifice  to  any  other ; and  that  therefore  a harmony 
between  the  maxim  of  Prudence  and  the  maxim  of  Rational 
Benevolence  must  be  somehow  demonstrated,  if  morality  is  to 
be  made  completely  rational.  This  latter  view  is  that  which 
I myself  hold  ’ (last  Chap.  § 1).  Prof.  Sidgwick  then  goes  on  to 
shew  ‘that  the  inseparable  connection  between  Utilitarian  Duty 
and  the  greatest  happiness  of  the  individual  who  conforms  to 
it  cannot  be  satisfactorily  demonstrated  on  empirical  grounds’ 
(Ib.  § 3).  And  the  final  paragraph  of  his  book  tells  us  that, 
since  ‘ the  reconciliation  of  duty  and  self-interest  is  to  be 
regarded  as  a hypothesis  logically  necessary  to  avoid  a funda- 
mental contradiction  in  one  chief  department  of  our  thought, 
it  remains  to  ask  how  far  this  necessity  constitutes  a sufficient 
reason  for  accepting  this  hypothesis' ’ (Ib.  §5).  To  ‘assume 
the  existence  of  such  a Being,  as  God,  by  the  consensus  of 
theologians,  is  conceived  to  be  ’ would,  he  has  already  argued, 
ensure  the  required  reconciliation ; since  the  Divine  Sanctions 
of  such  a God  ‘would,  of  course,  suffice  to  make  it  always 
every  one’s  interest  to  promote  universal  happiness  to  the  best 
of  his  knowledge’  (Ib.  § 5). 

Now  what  is  this  ‘reconciliation  of  duty  and  self-interest,’ 
which  Divine  Sanctions  could  ensure  ? It  would  consist  in  the 
mere  fact  that  the  same  conduct  which  produced  the  greatest 
possible  happiness  of  the  greatest  number  would  always  also 
produce  the  greatest  possible  happiness  of  the  agent.  If  this 
were  the  case  (and  our  empirical  knowledge  shews  that  it  is  not 
' The  italics  are  mine. 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


103 


the  case  in  this  world),  ‘ morality  ’ would,  Prof.  Sidgwick  thinks, 
be  ‘completely  rational’:  we  should  avoid  ‘an  ultimate  and 
fundamental  contradiction  in  our  apparent  intuitions  of  what 
is  Reasonable  in  conduct.’  That  is  to  say,  we  should  avoid  the 
necessity  of  thinking  that  it  is  as  manifest  an  obligation  to 
secure  our  own  greatest  Happiness  (maxim  of  Prudence),  as  to 
secure  the  greatest  Happiness  on  the  whole  (maxim  of  Benevo- 
lence). But  it  is  perfectly  obvious  we  should  not.  Prof 
Sidgwick  here  commits  the  characteristic  fallacy  of  Empiricism 
— the  fallacy  of  thinking  that  an  alteration  in  facts  could  make 
a contradiction  cease  to  be  a contradiction.  That  a single  man’s 
happiness  should  be  the  sole  good,  and  that  also  everybody’s 
happiness  should  be  the  sole  good,  is  a contradiction  which 
cannot  be  solved  by  the  assumption  that  the  same  conduct  will 
secure  both  : it  would  be  equally  contradictory,  however  certain 
we  were  that  that  assumption  was  justified.  Prof  Sidgwick 
strains  at  a gnat  and  swallows  a camel.  He  thinks  the  Divine 
Omnipotence  must  be  called  into  play  to  secure  that  what  gives 
other  people  pleasure  should  also  give  it  to  him — that  only 
so  can  Ethics  be  made  rational ; while  he  overlooks  the  fact 
that  even  this  exercise  of  Divine  Omnipotence  would  leave  in 
Ethics  a contradiction,  in  comparison  with  which  his  difficulty 
is  a trifle — a contradiction,  which  would  reduce  all  Ethics  to 
mere  nonsense,  and  before  which  the  Divine  Omnipotence  must 
be  powerless  to  all  eternity.  That  each  man’s  happiness  should 
be  the  sole  good,  which  we  have  seen  to  be  the  principle  of 
Egoism,  is  in  itself  a contradiction : and  that  it  should  also 
be  true  that  the  Happiness  of  all  is  the  sole  good,  which  is  the 
principle  of  Universalistic  Hedonism,  would  introduce  another 
contradiction.  And  that  these  propositions  should  all  be  true 
might  well  be  called  ‘ the  profoundest  problem  in  Ethics  ’ : 
it  would  be  a problem  necessarily  insoluble.  But  they  cannot 
all  be  true,  and  there  is  no  reason,  but  confusion,  for  the 
supposition  that  they  are.  Prof  Sidgwick  confuses  this  con- 
tradiction with  the  mere  fact  (in  which  there  is  no  contradiction) 
that  our  own  greatest  happiness  and  that  of  all  do  not  seem 
always  attainable  by  the  same  means.  This  fact,  if  Happiness 
were  the  sole  good,  would  indeed  be  of  some  importance ; and. 


104 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


on  any  view,  similar  facts  are  of  importance.  But  they  are 
nothing  but  instances  of  the  one  important  fact  that  in  this 
world  the  quantity  of  good  which  is  attainable  is  ridiculously 
small  compared  to  that  which  is  imaginable.  That  I cannot 
get  the  most  possible  pleasure  for  myself,  if  I produce  the 
most  possible  pleasure  on  the  whole,  is  no  more  the  profoundest 
problem  of  Ethics,  than  that  in  any  case  1 cannot  get  as  much 
pleasure  altogether  as  would  be  desirable.  It  only  states  that, 
if  we  get  as  much  good  as  possible  in  one  place,  we  may  get 
less  on  the  whole,  because  the  quantity  of  attainable  good  is 
limited.  To  say  that  I have  to  choose  between  my  own  good 
and  that  of  all  is  a false  antithesis : the  only  rational  question 
is  how  to  choose  between  my  own  and  that  of  others,  and 
the  principle  on  which  this  must  be  answered  is  exactly 
the  same  as  that  on  which  I must  choose  whether  to  give 
pleasure  to  this  other  person  or  to  that. 

62.  It  is  plain,  then,  that  the  doctrine  of  Egoism  is  self- 
contradictory; and  that  one  reason  why  this  is  not  perceived, 
is  a confusion  with  regard  to  the  meaning  of  the  phrase  ‘ my 
own  good.’  And  it  may  be  observed  that  this  confusion  and 
the  neglect  of  this  contradiction  are  necessarily  involved  in  the 
transition  from  Naturalistic  Hedonism,  as  ordinarily  held,  to 
Utilitarianism.  Mill,  for  instance,  as  we  saw,  declares:  ‘Each 
person,  so  far  as  he  believes  it  to  be  attainable,  desires  his  own 
happiness’  (p.  53).  And  he  offers  this  as  a reason  why  the 
general  happiness  is  desirable.  We  have  seen  that  to  regard 
it  as  such,  involves,  in  the  first  place,  the  naturalistic  fallacy. 
But  moreover,  even  if  that  fallacy  were  not  a fallacy,  it  could 
only  be  a reason  for  Egoism  and  not  for  Utilitarianism.  Mill’s 
argument  is  as  follows : A man  desires  his  own  happiness ; 
therefore  his  own  happiness  is  desirable.  Further:  A man 
desires  nothing  but  his  own  happiness;  therefore  his  own 
happiness  is  alone  desirable.  We  have  next  to  remember, 
that  everybody,  according  to  Mill,  so  desires  his  own  happiness: 
and  then  it  will  follow  that  everybody’s  happiness  is  alone 
desirable.  And  this  is  simply  a contradiction  in  terms.  Just 
consider  what  it  means.  Each  man’s  happiness  is  the  only 
thing  desirable:  several  different  things  are  each  of  them  the 


m] 


HEDONISM 


105 


only  thing  desirable.  This  is  the  fundamental  contradiction  of 
Egoism.  In  order  to  think  that  what  his  arguments  tend  to 
prove  is  not  Egoism  but  Utilitarianism,  Mill  must  think  that 
he  can  infer  from  the  proposition  ‘ Each  man’s  happiness  is  his 
own  good,’  the  proposition  ‘ The  happiness  of  all  is  the  good  of 
all  ’ ; whereas  in  fact,  if  we  understand  what  ‘ his  own  good  ’ 
means,  it  is  plain  that  the  latter  can  only  be  inferred  from  ‘The 
happiness  of  all  is  the  good  of  each.’  Naturalistic  Hedonism, 
then,  logically  leads  only  to  Egoism.  Of  course,  a Naturalist 
might  hold  that  what  we  aimed  at  was  simply  ‘ pleasure  ’ not 
our  own  pleasure ; and  that,  always  assuming  the  naturalistic 
fallacy,  would  give  an  unobjectionable  ground  for  Utilitarianism. 
But  more  commonly  he  will  hold  that  it  is  his  own  pleasure  he 
desires,  or  at  least  will  confuse  this  with  the  other;  and  then 
he  must  logically  be  led  to  adopt  Egoism  and  not  Utilitarian- 
ism. 

63.  The  second  cause  I have  to  give  why  Egoism  should  be 
thought  reasonable,  is  simply  its  confusion  with  that  other  kind 
of  Egoism — Egoism  as  a doctrine  of  means.  This  second  Egoism 
has  a right  to  say:  You  ought  to  pursue  your  own  happiness, 
sometimes  at  all  events ; it  may  even  say  : Always.  And  when 
we  find  it  saying  this  we  are  apt  to  forget  its  proviso : But  only 
as  a means  to  something  else.  The  fact  is  we  are  in  an  imperfect 
state;  we  cannot  get  the  ideal  all  at  once.  And  hence  it  is 
often  our  bounden  duty,  we  often  absolutely  ‘ought,’  to  do  things 
which  are  good  only  or  chiefly  as  means : we  have  to  do  the 
best  we  can,  what  is  absolutely  ‘ right,’  but  not  what  is  abso- 
lutely good.  Of  this  I shall  say  more  hereafter.  I only  mention 
it  here  because  I think  it  is  much  more  plausible  to  say  that 
we  ought  to  pursue  our  own  pleasure  as  a means  than  as  an 
end,  and  that  this  doctrine,  through  confusion,  lends  some  of  its 
plausibility  to  the  utterly  different  doctrine  of  Egoism  proper : 
My  own  greatest  pleasure  is  the  only  good  thing. 

64.  So  much  for  Egoism.  Of  Utilitarianism  not  much  need 
be  said  ; but  two  points  may  seem  deserving  of  notice. 

The  first  is  that  this  name,  like  that  of  Egoism,  does  not 
naturally  suggest  that  all  our  actions  are  to  be  judged  according 
to  the  degree  in  which  they  are  a means  to  pleasure.  Its 


106 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


natural  meaning  is  that  the  standard  of  right  and  wrong  in 
conduct  is  its  tendency  to  promote  the  interest  of  everybody. 
And  by  interest  is  commonly  meant  a variety  of  different  goods, 
classed  together  only  because  they  are  what  a man  commonly 
desires  for  himself,  so  far  as  his  desires  have  not  that  psycho- 
logical quality  which  is  meant  by  ‘moral.’  The  ‘useful’  thus 
means,  and  was  in  ancient  Ethics  systematically  used  to  mean, 
what  is  a means  to  the  attainment  of  goods  other  than  moral 
goods.  It  is  quite  an  unjustifiable  assumption  that  these  goods 
are  only  good  as  means  to  pleasure  or  that  they  are  commonly 
so  regarded.  The  chief  reason  for  adopting  the  name  ‘Utilita- 
rianism’ was,  indeed,  merely  to  emphasize  the  fact  that  right 
and  wrong  conduct  must  be  judged  by  its  results— as  a means, 
in  opposition  to  the  strictly  Intuitionistic  view  that  certain 
ways  of  acting  were  right  and  others  wrong,  whatever  their 
results  might  be.  In  thus  insisting  that  what  is  right  must 
mean  what  produces  the  best  possible  results  Utilitarianism  is 
fuUy  justified.  But  with  this  correct  contention  there  has  been 
historically,  and  very  naturally,  associated  a double  error. 
(1)  The  best  possible  results  were  assumed  to  consist  only  in  a 
limited  class  of  goods,  roughly  coinciding  with  those  which  were 
popularly  distinguished  as  the  results  of  merely  ‘useful’  or 
‘interested’  actions;  and  these  again  were  hastily  assumed  to 
be  good  only  as  means  to  pleasure.  (2)  The  Utihtarians  tend 
to  regard  everything  as  a mere  means,  neglecting  the  fact  that 
some  things  which  are  good  as  means  are  also  good  as  ends. 
Thus,  for  instance,  assuming  pleasure  to  be  a good,  there  is  a 
tendency  to  value  present  pleasure  only  as  a means  to  future 
pleasure,  and  not,  as  is  strictly  necessary  if  pleasure  is  good  as 
an  end,  also  to  weigh  it  against  possible  future  pleasures.  Much 
utilitarian  argument  involves  the  logical  absurdity  that  what 
is  here  and  now,  never  has  any  value  in  itself,  but  is  only  to  be 
judged  by  its  consequences;  which  again,  of  course,  when  they 
are  realised,  would  have  no  value  in  themselves,  but  would  be 
mere  means  to  a still  further  future,  and  so  on  ad  infinitum. 

The  second  point  deserving  notice  with  regard  to  Utilitari- 
anism is  that,  when  the  name  is  used  for  a form  of  Hedonism, 
it  does  not  commonly,  even  in  its  description  of  its  end, 


Ill] 


HEDONISM 


107 


accurately  distinguish  between  means  and  end.  Its  best-known 
formula  is  that  the  result  by  which  actions  are  to  be  judged  is 
‘the  greatest  happiness  of  the  greatest  number.’  But  it  is  plain 
that,  if  pleasure  is  the  sole  good,  provided  the  quantity  be 
equally  great,  an  equally  desirable  result  will  have  been  obtain- 
ed whether  it  be  enjoyed  by  many  or  by  few,  or  even  if  it  be 
enjoyed  by  nobody.  It  is  plain  that,  if  we  ought  to  aim  at  the 
greatest  happiness  of  the  greatest  number,  this  can  only,  on  the 
hedonistic  principle,  be  because  the  existence  of  pleasure  in  a 
great  number  of  persons  seems  to  be  the  best  means  available 
for  attaining  the  existence  of  the  greatest  quantity  of  pleasure. 
This  may  actually  be  the  case ; but  it  is  fair  to  suspect  that 
Utilitarians  have  been  influenced,  in  their  adoption  of  the 
hedonistic  principle,  by  this  failure  to  distinguish  clearly  be- 
tween pleasure  or  consciousness  of  pleasure  and  its  possession 
by  a person.  It  is  far  easier  to  regard  the  possession  of  pleasure 
by  a number  of  persons  as  the  sole  good,  than  so  to  regard  the 
mere  existence  of  an  equally  great  quantity  of  pleasure.  If, 
indeed,  we  were  to  take  the  Utilitarian  principle  strictly,  and 
to  assume  them  to  mean  that  the  possession  of  pleasure  by 
many  persons  was  good  in  itself,  the  principle  is  not  hedonistic: 
it  includes  as  a necessary  part  of  the  ultimate  end,  the  existence 
of  a number  of  persons,  and  this  will  include  very  much  more 
than  mere  pleasure. 

Utilitarianism,  however,  as  commonly  held,  must  be  under- 
stood to  maintain  that  either  mere  consciousness  of  pleasure,  or 
consciousness  of  pleasure  together  with  the  minimum  adjunct 
which  may  be  meant  by  the  existence  of  such  consciousness  in 
at  least  one  person,  is  the  sole  good.  This  is  its  significance  as 
an  ethical  doctrine ; and  as  such  it  has  already  been  refuted  in 
my  refutation  of  Hedonism.  The  most  that  can  be  said  for  it  is 
that  it  does  not  seriously  mislead  in  its  practical  conclusions,  on 
the  ground  that,  as  an  empirical  fact,  the  method  of  acting 
which  brings  most  good  on  the  whole  does  also  bring  most 
pleasure.  Utilitarians  do  indeed  generally  devote  most  of  their 
arguments  to  shewing  that  the  course  of  action  which  will  bring 
most  pleasure  is  in  general  such  as  common  sense  would 
approve.  We  have  seen  that  Prof.  Sidgwick  appeals  to  this 


108 


HEDONISM 


[chap. 


fact  as  tending  to  shew  that  pleasure  is  the  sole  good  ; and  we 
have  also  seen  that  it  does  not  tend  to  shew  this.  We  have 
seen  how  very  flimsy  the  other  arguments  advanced  for  this 
proposition  are ; and  that,  if  it  be  fairly  considered  by  itself,  it 
appears  to  be  quite  ridiculous.  And,  moreover,  that  the  actions 
which  produce  most  good  on  the  whole  do  also  produce  most 
pleasure  is  extremely  doubtful.  The  arguments  tending  to 
shew  it  are  all  more  or  less  vitiated  by  the  assumption  that 
what  appear  to  be  necessary  conditions  for  the  attainment  of 
most  pleasure  in  the  near  future,  will  always  continue  so  to  be. 
And,  even  with  this  vicious  assumption,  they  only  succeed  in 
making  out  a highly  problematical  case.  How,  therefore,  this 
fact  is  to  be  explained,  if  it  be  a fact,  need  not  concern  us.  It 
is  sufficient  to  have  shewn  that  many  complex  states  of  mind 
are  much  more  valuable  than  the  pleasure  they  contain.  If 
this  be  so,  no  form  of  Hedonism  can  he  trve.  And,  since  the 
practical  guidance  afforded  by  pleasure  as  a criterion  is  small  in 
proportion  as  the  calculation  attempts  to  be  accurate,  we  can 
well  afford  to  await  further  investigation,  before  adopting  a 
guide,  whose  utility  is  very  doubtful  and  whose  trustworthiness 
we  have  grave  reason  to  suspect. 

65.  The  most  important  points  which  I have  endeavoured 
to  establish  in  this  chapter  are  as  follows.  (1)  Hedonism  must 
be  strictly  defined,  as  the  doctrine  that  ‘Pleasure  is  the  only 
thing  which  is  good  in  itself’ : this  view  seems  to  owe  its 
prevalence  mainly  to  the  naturalistic  fallacy,  and  Mill’s  argu- 
ments may  be  taken  as  a t}q)e  of  those  which  are  fallacious 
in  this  respect ; Sidgwick  alone  has  defended  it  without  com- 
mitting this  fallacy,  and  its  final  refutation  must  therefore 
point  out  the  errors  in  his  arguments  (36-38).  (2)  Mill’s 

‘Utilitarianism’  is  criticised:  it  being  shewn  (a)  that  he 
commits  the  naturalistic  fallacy  in  identifying  ‘ desirable  ’ with 
‘ desired  ’ ; (b)  that  pleasure  is  not  the  only  object  of  desire. 
The  common  arguments  for  Hedonism  seem  to  rest  on  these 
two  errors  (39-44).  (3)  Hedonism  is  considered  as  an  ‘ Intu- 
ition,’ and  it  is  pointed  out  (a)  that  Mill’s  allowance  that  some 
pleasures  are  inferior  in  quality  to  others  implies  both  that 
it  is  an  Intuition  and  that  it  is  a false  one  (46-48) ; {b)  that 


i:i] 


HEDONISM 


109 


Sidgwick  fails  to  distinguish  ‘pleasure’  from  ‘consciousness  of 
pleasure/  and  that  it  is  absurd  to  regard  the  former,  at  all 
events,  as  the  sole  good  (49-52);  (c)  that  it  seems  equally 
absurd  to  regard  ‘consciousness  of  pleasure’  as  the  sole  good, 
since,  if  it  were  so,  a world  in  which  nothing  else  existed  might 
be  absolutely  perfect:  Sidgwick  fails  to  put  to  himself  this 
question,  which  is  the  only  clear  and  decisive  one  (53-57). 
(4)  What  are  commonly  considered  to  be  the  two  main  types  of 
Hedonism,  namely.  Egoism  and  Utilitarianism,  are  not  only 
different  from,  but  strictly  contradictory  of,  one  another;  since 
the  former  asserts  ‘My  own  greatest  pleasure  is  the  sole  good,’ 
the  latter  ‘The  greatest  pleasure  of  all  is  the  sole  good.’ 
Egoism  seems  to  owe  its  plausibility  partly  to  the  failure  to 
observe  this  contradiction — a failure  which  is  exemplified  by 
Sidgwick;  partly  to  a confusion  of  Egoism  as  doctrine  of  end, 
with  the  same  as  doctrine  of  means.  If  Hedonism  is  true. 
Egoism  cannot  be  so;  still  less  can  it  be  so,  if  Hedonism  is  false. 
The  end  of  Utilitarianism,  on  the  other  hand,  would,  if  Hedon- 
ism were  true,  be,  not  indeed  the  best  conceivable,  but  the 
best  possible  for  us  to  promote;  but  it  is  refuted  by  the 
refutation  of  Hedonism  (58-64), 


CHAPTER  IV. 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS. 

66.  In  this  chapter  I propose  to  deal  with  a type  of  ethical 
theory  which  is  exemplified  in  the  ethical  views  of  the  Stoics, 
of  Spinoza,  of  Kant,  and  especially  of  a number  of  modern 
writers,  whose  views  in  this  respect  are  mainly  due  to  the 
influence  of  Hegel.  These  ethical  theories  have  this  in  common, 
that  they  use  some  metaphysical  proposition  as  a ground  for 
inferring  some  fundamental  proposition  of  Ethics.  They  all 
imply,  and  many  of  them  expressly  hold,  that  ethical  truths 
follow  logically  from  metaphysical  truths — that  Ethics  should  be 
based  on  Metaphysics.  And  the  result  is  that  they  all  describe 
the  Supreme  Good  in  metaphysical  terms, 

What,  then,  is  to  be  understood  by  ‘metaphysical’?  I use 
the  term,  as  I explained  in  Chapter  II.,  in  opposition  to  ‘natural.’ 
I call  those  philosophers  preeminently  ‘metaphysical’  who  have 
recognised  most  clearly  that  not  everything  which  is  is  a ‘natural 
object.’  ‘Metaphysicians’  have,  therefore,  the  great  merit  ot 
insisting  that  our  knowledge  is  not  confined  to  the  things  which 
we  can  touch  and  see  and  feel.  They  have  always  been  much 
occupied,  not  only  with  that  other  class  of  natural  objects  which 
consists  in  mental  facts,  but  also  with  the  class  of  objects  or 
properties  of  objects,  which  certainly  do  not  exist  in  time,  are 
not  therefore  parts  of  Nature,  and  which,  in  fact,  do  not  exist  at 
all.  To  this  class,  as  I have  said,  belongs  what  we  mean  by  the 
adjective  ‘good.’  It  is  not  goodness,  but  only  the  things  or 
qualities  which  are  good,  which  can  exist  in  time — can  have 


CHAP.  IV] 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


111 


duration,  and  begin  and  cease  to  exist — can  be  objects  of  per- 
ception. But  the  most  prominent  members  of  this  class  are 
perhaps  numbers.  It  is  quite  certain  that  two  natural  objects 
may  exist;  but  it  is  equally  certain  that  two  itself  does  not 
exist  and  never  can.  Two  and  two  are  four.  But  that  does 
not  mean  that  either  two  or  four  exists.  Yet  it  certainly  means 
something.  Two  is  somehow,  although  it  does  not  exist.  And 
it  is  not  only  simple  terms  of  propositions — the  objects  about 
which  we  know  truths — that  belong  to  this  class.  The  truths 
which  we  know  about  them  form,  perhaps,  a still  more  important 
subdivision.  No  truth  does,  in  fact,  exist;  but  this  is  peculiarly 
obvious  with  regard  to  truths  like  ‘Two  and  two  are  four,’  in 
which  the  objects,  about  which  they  are  truths,  do  not  exist 
either.  It  is  with  the  recognition  of  such  truths  as  these — 
truths  which  have  been  called  ‘universal’ — and  of  their  essential 
unlikeness  to  what  we  can  touch  and  see  and  feel,  that  meta- 
physics proper  begins.  Such  ‘universal’  truths  have  always 
played  a large  part  in  the  reasonings  of  metaphysicians  from 
Plato’s  time  till  now ; and  that  they  have  directed  attention  to 
the  difference  between  these  truths  and  what  I have  called 
‘natural  objects’  is  the  chief  contribution  to  knowledge  which 
distinguishes  them  from  that  other  class  of  philosophers — 
‘empirical’  philosophers — to  which  most  Englishmen  have 
belonged. 

But  though,  if  we  are  to  define  ‘metaphysics’  by  the  con- 
tribution which  it  has  actually  made  to  knowledge,  we  should 
have  to  say  that  it  has  emphasized  the  importance  of  objects 
which  do  not  exist  at  all,  metaphysicians  themselves  have  not 
recognised  this.  They  have  indeed  recognised  and  insisted  that 
there  are,  or  may  be,  objects  of  knowledge  which  do  not  exist  in 
time,  or  at  least  which  we  cannot  perceive ; and  in  recognising 
the  possibility  of  these,  as  an  object  of  investigation,  they  have, 
it  may  be  admitted,  done  a service  to  mankind.  But  they  have 
in  general  supposed  that  whatever  does  not  exist  in  time,  must 
at  least  exist  elsewhere,  if  it  is  to  be  at  all — that,  whatever  does 
not  exist  in  Nature,  must  exist  in  some  supersensible  reality, 
whether  timeless  or  not.  Consequently  they  have  held  that 
the  truths  with  which  they  have  been  occupied,  over  and  above 


112 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


[chap. 


the  objects  of  perception,  were  in  some  way  truths  about  such 
supersensible  reality.  If,  therefore,  we  are  to  define  ‘ meta- 
physics’ not  by  what  it  has  attained,  but  by  what  it  has 
attempted,  we  should  say  that  it  consists  in  the  attempt  to 
obtain  knowledge,  by  processes  of  reasoning,  of  what  exists  but 
is  not  a part  of  Nature.  Metaphysicians  have  actually  held  that 
they  could  give  us  such  knowledge  of  non-natural  existence. 
They  have  held  that  their  science  consists  in  giving  us  such 
knowledge  as  can  be  supported  by  reasons,  of  that  supersensible 
reality  of  which  religion  professes  to  give  us  a fuller  knowledge, 
without  any  reasons.  When,  therefore,  I spoke  above  of  ‘meta- 
physical’ propositions,  I meant  propositions  about  the  existence 
of  something  supersensible— of  something  which  is  not  an  object 
of  perception,  and  which  cannot  be  inferred  from  what  is  an 
object  of  perception  by  the  same  rules  of  inference  by  which  we 
infer  the  past  and  future  of  what  we  call  ‘Nature.’  And  when 
I spoke  of ‘metaphysical’  terms,  I meant  terms  which  refer  to 
qualities  of  such  a supersensible  reality,  which  do  not  belong 
to  anything  ‘natural.’  I admit  that  ‘metaphysics’  should 
investigate  what  reasons  there  may  be  for  belief  in  such  a 
supersensible  reality;  since  I hold  that  its  peculiar  province  is 
the  truth  about  all  objects  which  are  not  natural  objects.  And 
I think  that  the  most  prominent  characteristic  of  metaphysics, 
in  history,  has  been  its  profession  to  prove  the  truth  about 
non-natural  existents.  1 define  ‘metaphysical,’  therefore,  by  a 
reference  to  supersensible  reality,  although  I think  that  the 
only  non-natural  objects,  about  which  it  has  succeeded  in  ob- 
taining truth,  are  objects  which  do  not  exist  at  all. 

So  much,  I hope,  will  suffice  to  explain  what  I mean  by  the 
term  ‘metaphysical,’  and  to  shew  that  it  refers  to  a clear  and 
important  distinction.  It  was  not  necessary  for  my  purpose  to 
make  the  definition  exhaustive  or  to  shew  that  it  corresponds 
in  essentials  with  established  usage.  The  distinction  between 
‘Nature’  and  a supersensible  reality  is  very  familiar  and  very 
important:  and  since  the  metaphysician  endeavours  to  prove 
things  with  regard  to  a supersensible  reality,  and  since  he  deals 
largely  in  truths  which  are  not  mere  natural  facts,  it  is  plain 
that  his  arguments,  and  errors  (if  any),  will  be  of  a more  subtle 


IV] 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


113 


kind  than  those  which  I have  dealt  with  under  the  name  of 
‘Naturalism.’  For  these  two  reasons  it  seemed  convenient  to 
treat  ‘ Metaphysical  Ethics  ’ by  themselves. 

67.  I have  said  that  those  systems  of  Ethics,  which  I pro- 
pose to  call  ‘ Metaphysical,’  are  characterised  by  the  fact  that 
they  describe  the  Supreme  Good  in  ‘metaphysical’  terms;  and 
this  has  now  been  explained  as  meaning  that  they  describe  it 
in  terms  of  something  which  (they  hold)  does  exist,  but  does 
not  exist  in  Nature — in  terms  of  a supersensible  reality.  A 
Metaphysical  Ethics  ’ is  marked  by  the  fact  that  it  makes  the 
assertion : That  which  would  be  perfectly  good  is  something 
which  exists,  but  is  not  natural ; that  which  has  some  charac- 
teristic possessed  by  a supersensible  reality.  Such  an  assertion 
was  made  by  the  Stoics  when  they  asserted  that  a life  in  accord- 
ance with  Nature  was  perfect.  For  they  did  not  mean  by 
‘ Nature,’  what  I have  so  defined,  but  something  supersensible 
which  they  inferred  to  exist,  and  which  they  held  to  be  per- 
fectly good.  Such  an  assertion,  again,  is  made  by  Spinoza 
when  he  tells  us  that  we  are  more  or  less  perfect,  in  proportion 
as  we  are  more  or  less  closely  united  with  Absolute  Substance 
by  the  ‘ intellectual  love  ’ of  God.  Such  an  assertion  is  made 
by  Kant  when  he  tells  us  that  his  ‘Kingdom  of  Ends’  is  the 
ideal.  And  such,  finally,  is  made  by  modern  writers  who  tell 
us  that  the  final  and  perfect  end  is  to  realise  our  true  selves — a 
self  different  both  from  the  whole  and  from  any  part  of  that 
which  exists  here  and  now  in  Nature. 

Now  it  is  plain  that  such  ethical  principles  have  a merit, 
not  possessed  by  Naturalism,  in  recognising  that  for  perfect 
goodness  much  more  is  required  than  any  quantity  of  what 
exists  here  and  now  or  can  be  inferred  as  likely  to  exist  in  the 
future.  And  moreover  it  is  quite  possible  that  their  assertions 
should  be  true,  if  we  only  understand  them  to  assert  that  some- 
thing which  is  real  possesses  all  the  characteristics  necessary 
for  perfect  goodness.  But  this  is  not  all  that  they  assert.  They 
also  imply,  as  I said,  that  this  ethical  proposition  follows  from 
some  proposition  which  is  metaphysical : that  the  question 
‘ What  is  real  ? ’ has  some  logical  bearing  upon  the  question 
‘ What  is  good  ?’  It  was  for  this  reason  that  I described  ‘Meta- 


114 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


[chap. 


physical  Ethics’  in  Chapter  II.  as  based  upon  the  naturalistic 
fallacy.  To  hold  that  from  any  proposition  asserting  ‘ Reality 
is  of  this  nature  ’ we  can  infer,  or  obtain  confirmation  for,  any 
proposition  asserting  ‘ This  is  good  in  itself’  is  to  commit  the 
naturalistic  fallacy.  And  that  a knowledge  of  what  is  real 
supplies  reasons  for  holding  certain  things  to  be  good  in  them- 
selves is  either  implied  or  expressly  asserted  by  all  those  who 
define  the  Supreme  Good  in  metaphysical  terms.  This  con- 
tention is  part  of  what  is  meant  by  saying  that  Ethics  should 
be  ‘ based  ’ on  Metaphysics.  It  is  meant  that  some  knowledge 
of  supersensible  reality  is  necessary  as  a premise  for  correct  con- 
clusions as  to  what  ought  to  exist.  This  view  is,  for  instance, 
plainly  expressed  in  the  following  statements : ‘ The  truth  is 
that  the  theory  of  Ethics  which  seems  most  satisfactory  has  a 

metaphysical  basis If  we  rest  our  view  of  Ethics  on  the  idea 

of  the  development  of  the  ideal  self  or  of  the  rational  universe, 
the  significance  of  this  cannot  be  made  fully  apparent  without 
a metaphysical  examination  of  the  nature  of  self ; nor  can  its 
validity  he  established  except  by  a discussion  of  the  reality  of  the 
rational  universe'^.’  The  validity  of  an  ethical  conclusion  about 
the  nature  of  the  ideal,  it  is  here  asserted,  cannot  be  established 
except  by  considering  the  question  whether  that  ideal  is  real. 
Such  an  assertion  involves  the  naturalistic  fallacy.  It  rests 
upon  the  failure  to  perceive  that  any  truth  which  asserts  ‘ This 
is  good  in  itself’  is  quite  unique  in  kind — that  it  cannot  be 
reduced  to  any  assertion  about  reality,  and  therefore  must 
remain  unaffected  by  any  conclusions  we  may  reach  about  the 
nature  of  reality.  This  confusion  as  to  the  unique  nature  of 
ethical  truths  is,  I have  said,  involved  in  all  those  ethical 
theories  which  I have  called  metaphysical.  It  is  plain  that, 
but  for  some  confusion  of  the  sort,  no-one  would  think  it  worth 
while  even  to  describe  the  Supreme  Good  in  metaphysical 
terms.  If,  for  instance,  we  are  told  that  the  ideal  consists  in 
the  realisation  of  the  ‘true  self,’  the  very  words  suggest  that 
the  fact  that  the  self  in  question  is  true  is  supposed  to  have 
some  bearing  on  the  fact  that  it  is  good.  All  the  ethical  truth 

* Prof.  J.  S.  Mackeuzib,  A Manual  of  Ethics,  4th  ed.,  p.  431.  The  italics 


are  mine. 


IV] 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


115 


which  can  possibly  be  conveyed  by  such  an  assertion  would  be 
just  as  well  conveyed  by  saying  that  the  ideal  consisted  in  the 
realisation  of  a particular  kind  of  self,  which  might  be  either 
real  or  purely  imaginary.  ‘ Metaphysical  Ethics,’  then,  involve 
the  supposition  that  Ethics  can  be  based  on  Metaphysics ; and 
our  first  concern  with  them  is  to  make  clear  that  this  supposi- 
tion must  be  false. 

68.  In  what  way  can  the  nature  of  supersensible  reality 
possibly  have  a bearing  upon  Ethics  ? 

I have  distinguished  two  kinds  of  ethical  questions,  which 
are  far  too  commonly  confused  with  one  another.  Ethics,  as 
commonly  understood,  has  to  answer  both  the  question  ‘ What 
ought  to  be  ? ’ and  the  question  ‘ What  ought  we  to  do  ? ’ The 
second  of  these  questions  can  only  be  answered  by  considering 
what  effects  our  actions  will  have.  A complete  answer  to  it 
would  give  us  that  department  of  Ethics  which  may  be  called 
the  doctrine  of  means  or  practical  Ethics.  And  upon  this 
department  of  ethical  enquiry  it  is  plain  that  the  nature  of 
a supersensible  reality  may  have  a bearing.  If,  for  instance, 
Metaphysics  could  tell  us  not  only  that  we  are  immortal,  but 
also,  in  any  degree,  what  effects  our  actions  in  this  life  will  have 
upon  our  condition  in  a future  one,  such  information  would  have 
an  undoubted  bearing  upon  the  question  what  we  ought  to  do. 
The  Christian  doctrines  of  heaven  and  hell  are  in  this  way 
highly  relevant  to  practical  Ethics.  But  it  is  worthy  of  notice 
that  the  most  characteristic  doctrines  of  Metaphysics  are  such 
as  either  have  no  such  bearing  upon  practical  Ethics  or  have 
a purely  negative  bearing — involving  the  conclusion  that  there 
is  nothing  which  we  ought  to  do  at  all.  They  profess  to  tell 
us  the  nature  not  of  a future  reality,  but  of  one  that  is  eternal 
and  which  therefore  no  actions  of  ours  can  have  power  to  alter. 
Such  information  may  indeed  have  relevance  to  practical  Ethics, 
but  it  must  be  of  a purely  negative  kind.  For,  if  it  holds,  not 
only  that  such  an  eternal  reality  exists,  but  also,  as  is  commonly 
the  case,  that  nothing  else  is  real — that  nothing  either  has 
been,  is  now,  or  will  be  real  in  time — then  truly  it  will  follow 
that  nothing  we  can  do  will  ever  bring  any  good  to  pass.  For 
it  is  certain  that  our  actions  can  only  affect  the  future;  and  if 


116 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


[chap. 


nothing  can  be  real  in  the  future,  we  can  certainly  not  hope 
ever  to  make  any  good  thing  real.  It  would  follow,  then,  that 
there  can  be  nothing  which  we  ought  to  do.  We  cannot  possibly 
do  any  good  ; for  neither  our  efforts,  nor  any  result  which  they 
may  seem  to  effect,  have  any  real  existence.  But  this  con- 
sequence, though  it  follows  strictly  from  many  metaphysical 
doctrines,  is  rarely  drawn.  Although  a metaphysician  may  say 
that  nothing  is  real  but  that  which  is  eternal,  he  will  generally 
allow  that  there  is  some  reality  also  in  the  temporal : and  his 
doctrine  of  an  eternal  reality  need  not  interfere  with  practical 
Ethics,  if  he  allows  that,  however  good  the  eternal  reality  may 
be,  yet  some  things  will  also  exist  in  time,  and  that  the 
existence  of  some  will  be  better  than  that  of  others.  It  is, 
however,  worth  while  to  insist  upon  this  point,  because  it  is 
rarely  fully  realised. 

If  it  is  maintained  that  there  is  any  validity  at  all  in 
practical  Ethics — that  any  pi'oposition  which  asserts  ‘ We  ought 
to  do  so  and  so  ’ can  have  any  truth — this  contention  can  only 
be  consistent  with  the  Metaphysics  of  an  eternal  reality,  under 
two  conditions.  One  of  these  is,  (1)  that  the  true  eternal  reality, 
which  is  to  be  our  guide,  cannot,  as  is  implied  by  calling  it  true, 
be  the  only  true  reality.  For  a moral  rule,  bidding  us  realise 
a certain  end,  can  only  be  justified,  if  it  is  possible  that  that  end 
should,  at  least  partially,  be  realised.  Unless  our  efforts  can 
effect  the  real  existence  of  some  good,  however  little,  we 
certainly  have  no  reason  for  making  them.  And  if  the  eternal 
reality  is  the  sole  reality,  then  nothing  good  can  possibly  exist 
in  time;  we  can  only  be  told  to  try  to  bring  into  existence 
something  which  we  know  beforehand  cannot  possibly  exist. 
If  it  is  said  that  what  exists  in  time  can  only  be  a manifestation 
of  the  true  reality,  it  must  at  least  be  allowed  that  that 
manifestation  is  another  true  reality — a good  which  we  really 
can  cause  to  exist ; for  the  production  of  something  quite 
unreal,  even  if  it  were  possible,  cannot  be  a reasonable  end  of 
action.  But  if  the  manifestation  of  that  which  eternally  exists 
ia  real,  then  that  which  eternally  exists  is  not  the  sole  reality. 

And  the  second  condition  which  follows  from  such  a meta- 
physical principle  of  Ethics,  is  (2)  that  the  eternal  reality  cannot 


IV] 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


117 


be  perfect — cannot  be  the  sole  good.  For  just  as  a reasonable 
rule  of  conduct  requires  that  what  we  are  told  to  realise  should 
be  capable  of  being  truly  real,  so  it  requires  that  the  realisation 
of  this  ideal  shall  be  truly  good.  It  is  just  that  which  can  be 
realised  by  our  efforts — the  appearance  of  the  eternal  in  time, 
or  whatsoever  else  is  allowed  to  be  attainable— which  must  be 
truly  good,  if  it  is  to  be  worth  our  efforts.  That  the  eternal 
reality  is  good,  will  by  no  means  justify  us  in  aiming  at  its 
manifestation,  unless  that  manifestation  itself  be  also  good. 
For  the  manifestation  is  different  from  the  reality:  its  differ- 
ence is  allowed,  when  we  are  told  that  it  can  be  made  to  exist, 
whereas  the  reality  itself  exists  unalterably.  And  the  existence 
of  this  manifestation  is  the  only  thing  which  we  can  hope  to 
effect : that  also  is  admitted.  If,  therefore,  the  moral  maxim  is 
to  be  justified,  it  is  the  existence  of  this  manifestation,  as 
distinguished  from  the  existence  of  its  corresponding  reality, 
which  must  be  truly  good.  The  reality  may  be  good  too : but 
to  justify  the  statement  that  we  ought  to  produce  anything,  it 
must  be  maintained,  that  just  that  thing  itself,  and  not  some- 
thing else  which  may  be  like  it,  is  truly  good.  If  it  is  not  true 
that  the  existence  of  the  manifestation  will  add  something  to 
the  sum  of  good  in  the  Universe,  then  we  have  no  reason  to  aim 
at  making  it  exist ; and  if  it  is  true  that  it  will  add  something 
to  the  sum  of  good,  then  the  existence  of  that  which  is  eternal 
cannot  be  perfect  by  itself — it  cannot  include  the  whole  of 
possible  goods. 

Metaphysics,  then,  will  have  a bearing  upon  practical 
Ethics — upon  the  question  what  we  ought  to  do — if  it  can  tell 
us  anything  about  the  future  consequences  of  our  actions  beyond 
what  can  be  established  by  ordinary  inductive  reasoning.  But 
the  most  characteristic  metaphysical  doctrines,  those  which 
profess  to  tell  us  not  about  the  future  but  about  the  nature 
of  an  eternal  reality,  can  either  have  no  bearing  upon  this 
practical  question  or  else  must  have  a purely  destructive 
bearing.  For  it  is  plain  that  what  exists  eternally  cannot  be 
affected  by  our  actions;  and  only  what  is  affected  by  our  actions 
can  have  a bearing  on  their  value  as  means.  But  the  nature  of 
an  eternal  reality  either  admits  no  inference  as  to  the  results  of 


118 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


[chap. 


our  actions,  except  in  so  far  as  it  can  also  give  us  information 
about  the  future  (and  how  it  can  do  this  is  not  plain),  or  else,  if, 
as  is  usual,  it  is  maintained  to  be  the  sole  reality  and  the  sole 
good,  it  shews  that  no  results  of  our  actions  can  have  any  value 
whatever. 

69.  But  this  bearing  upon  practical  Ethics,  such  as  it  is,  is 
not  what  is  commonly  meant  when  it  is  maintained  that  Ethics 
must  be  based  on  Metaphysics.  It  is  not  the  assertion  of  this 
relation  which  I have  taken  to  be  characteristic  of  Metaphysical 
Ethics.  What  metaphysical  writers  commonly  maintain  is  not 
merely  that  Metaphysics  can  help  us  to  decide  what  the  effects 
of  our  actions  will  be,  but  that  it  can  tell  us  which  among 
possible  effects  will  be  good  and  which  will  be  bad.  They 
profess  that  Metaphysics  is  a necessary  basis  for  an  answer  to 
that  other  and  primary  ethical  question : What  ought  to  be  ? 
What  is  good  in  itself?  That  no  truth  about  what  is  real  can 
have  any  logical  bearing  upon  the  answer  to  this  question  has 
been  proved  in  Chapter  I.  To  suppose  that  it  has,  implies  tlm 
naturalistic  fallacy.  All  that  remains  for  us  to  do  is,  therefore, 
to  expose  the  main  errors  which  seem  to  have  lent  plausibility 
to  this  fallacy  in  its  metaphysical  form.  If  we  ask:  What 
bearing  can  Metaphysics  have  upon  the  question,  What  is  good? 
the  only  possible  answer  is : Obviously  and  absolutely  none. 
We  can  only  hope  to  enforce  conviction  that  this  answer  is  the 
only  true  one  by  answering  the  question : Why  has  it  been 
supposed  to  have  such  a bearing?  We  shall  find  that 
metaphysical  writers  seem  to  have  failed  to  distinguish  this 
primary  ethical  question : What  is  good  ? from  various  other 
questions ; and  to  point  out  these  distinctions  will  serve  to 
confirm  the  view  that  their  profession  to  base  Ethics  on 
Metaphysics  is  solely  due  to  confusion. 

70.  And,  first  of  all,  there  is  an  ambiguity  in  the  very 
question : What  is  good  ? to  which  it  seems  some  influence 
must  be  attributed.  The  question  may  mean  either:  Which 
among  existing  things  are  good  ? or  else : What  sort  of  things 
are  good,  what  are  the  things  which,  whether  they  are  real  or 
not,  ought  to  be  real  ? And  of  these  two  questions  it  is  plain 
that  to  answer  the  first,  we  must  know  both  the  answer  to  the 


IV] 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


119 


second  and  also  the  answer  to  the  question : What  is  real  ? It 
asks  us  for  a catalogue  of  all  the  good  things  in  the  Universe  ; 
and  to  answer  it  we  must  know  both  what  things  there  are  in 
the  Universe  and  also  which  of  them  are  good.  Upon  this 
question  then  our  Metaphysics  would  have  a bearing,  if  it  can 
tell  us  what  is  real.  It  would  help  us  to  complete  the  list  of 
things  which  are  both  real  and  good.  But  to  make  such  a list 
is  not  the  business  of  Ethics.  So  far  as  it  enquires  What  is 
good  ? its  business  is  finished  when  it  has  completed  the  list  of 
things  which  ought  to  exist,  whether  they  do  exist  or  not. 
And  if  our  Metaphysics  is  to  have  any  bearing  upon  this  part 
of  the  ethical  problem,  it  must  be  because  the  fact  that  some- 
thing is  real  gives  a reason  for  thinking  that  it  or  something 
else  is  good,  whether  it  be  real  or  not.  That  any  such  fact  can 
give  any  such  reason  is  impossible ; but  it  may  be  suspected 
that  the  contrary  supposition  has  been  encouraged  by  the 
failure  to  distinguish  between  the  assertion  ‘This  is  good,’  when 
it  means  ‘ This  sort  of  thing  is  good,’  or  ‘ This  would  be  good,  if 
it  existed,’  and  the  assertion  ‘This  existing  thing  is  good.’  The 
latter  proposition  obviously  cannot  be  true,  unless  the  thing 
exists;  and  hence  the  proof  of  the  thing’s  existence  is  a ne- 
cessary step  to  its  proof.  Both  propositions,  however,  in  spite 
of  this  immense  difference  between  them,  are  commonly 
expressed  in  the  same  terms.  We  use  the  same  words,  when 
we  assert  an  ethical  proposition  about  a subject  that  is  actually 
real,  and  when  we  assert  it  about  a subject  considered  as 
merely  possible. 

In  this  ambiguity  of  language  we  have,  then,  a possible 
source  of  error  with  regard  to  the  bearing  of  truths  that  assert 
reality  upon  truths  that  assert  goodness.  And  that  this 
ambiguity  is  actually  neglected  by  those  metaphysical  writers 
who  profess  that  the  Supreme  Good  consists  in  an  eternal 
reality  may  be  shewn  in  the  following  way.  We  have  seen,  in 
considering  the  possible  bearing  of  Metaphysics  upon  Practical 
Ethics,  that,  since  what  exists  eternally  cannot  possibly  be 
afiected  by  our  actions,  no  practical  maxim  can  possibly  be 
true,  if  the  sole  reality  is  eternal.  This  fact,  as  I said,  is 
commonly  neglected  by  metaphysical  writei-s ; they  assert  both 


120 


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[chap. 


of  the  two  contradictory  propositions  that  the  sole  reality  is 
eternal  and  that  its  realisation  in  the  future  is  a good  too. 
Prof.  Mackenzie,  we  saw,  asserts  that  we  ought  to  aim  at  the 
realisation  of  ‘ the  true  self’  or  ‘ the  rational  universe  ’ : and  yet 
Prof.  Mackenzie  holds,  as  the  word  ‘ true  ’ plainly  implies,  that 
both  ‘the  true  self’  and  ‘the  rational  universe’  are  eternally 
real.  Here  we  have  already  a contradiction  in  the  supposition 
that  what  is  eternally  real  can  be  realised  in  the  future ; and  it 
is  comparatively  unimportant  whether  or  not  we  add  to  this  the 
further  contradiction  involved  in  the  supposition  that  the 
eternal  is  the  sole  reality.  That  such  a contradiction  should  be 
supposed  valid  can  only  be  explained  by  a neglect  of  the 
distinction  between  a real  subject  and  the  character  which  that 
real  subject  possesses.  What  is  eternally  real  may,  indeed,  be 
realised  in  the  future,  if  by  this  be  only  meant  the  sort  of  thing 
which  is  eternally  real.  But  when  we  assert  that  a thing  is 
good,  what  we  mean  is  that  its  existence  or  reality  is  good;  and 
the  eternal  existence  of  a thing  cannot  possibly  be  the  same 
good  as  the  existence  in  time  of  what,  in  a necessary  sense,  is 
nevertheless  the  same  thing.  When,  therefore,  we  are  told  that 
the  future  realisation  of  the  true  self  is  good,  this  can  at  most 
only  mean  that  the  future  realisation  of  a self  exactly  like  the 
self,  which  is  true  and  exists  eternally,  is  good.  If  this  fact 
were  clearly  stated,  instead  of  consistently  ignored,  by  those 
who  advocate  the  view  that  the  Supreme  Good  can  be  defined 
in  these  metaphysical  terms,  it  seems  probable  that  the  view  that 
a knowledge  of  reality  is  necessary  to  a knowledge  of  the  Supreme 
Good  would  lose  part  of  its  plausibility.  That  that  at  which  we 
ought  to  aim  cannot  possibly  be  that  which  is  eternally  real, 
even  if  it  be  exactly  like  it;  and  that  the  eternal  reality  cannot 
possibly  be  the  sole  good — these  two  propositions  seem  sensibly 
to  diminish  the  probability  that  Ethics  must  be  based  on 
Metaphysics.  It  is  not  very  plausible  to  maintain  that  because 
one  thing  is  real,  therefore  something  like  it,  which  is  not  real, 
would  be  good.  It  seems,  therefore,  that  some  of  the  plausi- 
bility of  Metaphysical  Ethics  may  be  reasonably  attributed  to 
the  failure  to  observe  that  verbal  ambiguity,  whereby  ‘ This  is 
good  ’ may  mean  either  ‘ This  real  thing  is  good  ’ or  ‘ The 


IV] 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


121 


existence  of  this  thing  (whether  it  exists  or  not)  would  be 
good.’ 

71.  By  exposing  this  ambiguity,  then,  we  are  enabled  to 
see  more  clearly  what  must  be  meant  by  the  question:  Can 
Ethics  be  based  on  Metaphysics  ? and  we  are,  therefore,  more 
likely  to  find  the  correct  answer.  It  is  now  plain  that  a meta- 
physical principle  of  Ethics  which  says  ‘This  eternal  reality 
is  the  Supreme  Good’  can  only  mean  ‘Something  like  this 
eternal  reality  would  be  the  Supreme  Good.’  We  are  now  to 
understand  such  principles  as  having  the  only  meaning  which 
they  can  consistently  have,  namely,  as  describing  the  kind  of 
thing  which  ought  to  exist  in  the  future,  and  which  we  ought 
to  try  to  bring  about.  And,  when  this  is  clearly  recognised,  it 
seems  more  evident  that  the  knowledge  that  such  a kind  of 
thing  is  also  eternally  real,  cannot  help  us  at  all  towards 
deciding  the  properly  ethical  question : Is  the  existence  of  that 
kind  of  good  thing  ? If  we  can  see  that  an  eternal  reality  is 
good,  we  can  see,  equally  easily,  once  the  idea  of  such  a thing 
has  been  suggested  to  us,  that  it  would  be  good.  The  meta- 
physical construction  of  Reality  would  therefore  be  quite  as 
useful,  for  the  purposes  of  Ethics,  if  it  were  a mere  construction 
of  an  imaginary  Utopia : provided  the  kind  of  thing  suggested 
is  the  same,  fiction  is  as  useful  as  truth,  for  giving  us  matter, 
upon  which  to  exercise  the  judgment  of  value.  Though,  there- 
fore, we  admit  that  Metaphysics  may  serve  an  ethical  purpose, 
in  suggesting  things,  which  would  not  otherwise  have  occurred 
to  us,  but  which,  when  they  are  suggested,  we  see  to  be  good ; 
yet,  it  is  not  as  Metaphysics — as  professing  to  tell  us  what  is 
real — that  it  has  this  use.  And,  in  fact,  the  pursuit  of  truth 
must  limit  the  usefulness  of  Metaphysics  in  this  respect.  Wild 
and  extravagant  as  are  the  assertions  which  metaphysicians 
have  made  about  reality,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  but  that 
they  have  been  partially  deterred  from  making  them  wilder 
still,  by  the  idea  that  it  was  their  business  to  tell  nothing  but 
the  truth.  But  the  wilder  they  are,  and  the  less  useful  for 
Metaphysics,  the  more  useful  will  they  be  for  Ethics ; since,  in 
order  to  be  sure  that  we  have  neglected  nothing  in  the  de- 
scription of  our  ideal,  we  should  have  had  before  us  as  wide  a 


122 


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[chap. 


field  as  possible  of  suggested  goods.  It  is  probable  that  this 
utility  of  Metaphysics,  in  suggesting  possible  ideals,  may  some- 
times be  what  is  meant  by  the  assertion  that  Ethics  should  be 
based  on  Metaphysics.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  find  that  which 
suggests  a truth  confused  with  that  on  which  it  logically 
depends;  and  I have  already  pointed  out  that  Metaphysical 
have,  in  general,  this  superiority  over  Naturalistic  systems,  that 
they  conceive  the  Supreme  Good  as  something  differing  more 
widely  from  what  exists  here  and  now.  But,  if  it  be  recognised 
that,  in  this  sense.  Ethics  should,  far  more  emphatically,  be 
based  on  fiction,  metaphysicians  will,  I think,  admit  that  a 
connection  of  this  kind  between  Metaphysics  and  Ethics  would 
by  no  means  justify  the  importance  which  they  attribute  to  the 
bearing  of  the  one  study  on  the  other. 

72.  We  may,  then,  attribute  the  obstinate  prejudice  that 
a knowledge  of  supersensible  reality  is  a necessary  step  to  a 
knowledge  of  what  is  good  in  itself,  partly  to  a failure  to  per- 
ceive that  the  subject  of  the  latter  judgment  is  not  anything 
real  as  such,  and  partly  to  a failure  to  distinguish  the  cause  of 
our  perception  of  a truth  from  the  reason  why  it  is  true.  But 
these  two  causes  will  carry  us  only  a very  little  way  in  our 
explanation  of  why  Metaphysics  should  have  been  supposed  to 
have  a bearing  upon  Ethics.  The  first  explanation  which  I 
have  given  would  only  account  for  the  supposition  that  a thing’s 
reality  is  a necessary  condition  for  its  goodness.  This  supposition 
is,  indeed,  commonly  made ; we  find  it  commonly  presupposed 
that  unless  a thing  can  be  shewn  to  be  involved  in  the  consti- 
tution of  reality,  it  cannot  be  good.  And  it  is,  therefore,  worth 
while  to  insist  that  this  is  not  the  case ; that  Metaphysics 
is  not  even  necessary  to  furnish  part  of  the  basis  of  Ethics. 
But  when  metaphysicians  talk  of  basing  Ethics  on  Metaphysics 
they  commonly  mean  much  more  than  this.  They  commonly 
mean  that  Metaphysics  is  the  sole  basis  of  Ethics — that  it 
furnishes  not  only  one  necessary  condition  but  all  the  condi- 
tions necessary  to  prove  that  certain  things  are  good.  And  this 
view  may,  at  first  sight,  appear  to  be  held  in  two  different 
forms.  It  may  be  asserted  that  merely  to  prove  a thing 
supersensibly  real  is  sufficient  to  prove  it  good : that  the  truly 


iv]  METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS  123 

real  must,  for  that  reason  alone,  be  truly  good.  But  more 
commonly  it  appears  to  be  held  that  the  real  must  be  good 
because  it  possesses  certain  characters.  And  we  may,  I think, 
reduce  the  first  kind  of  assertion  to  no  more  than  this.  When 
it  is  asserted  that  the  real  must  be  good,  because  it  is  real,  it  is 
commonly  also  held  that  this  is  only  because,  in  order  to  be 
real,  it  must  be  of  a certain  kind.  The  reasoning  by  which  it 
is  thought  that  a metaphysical  enquiry  can  give  an  ethical 
conclusion  is  of  the  following  form.  From  a consideration  of 
what  it  is  to  be  real,  we  can  infer  that  what  is  real  must  have 
certain  supersensible  properties : but  to  have  these  properties 
is  identical  with  being  good — it  is  the  very  meaning  of  the 
word  : it  follows  therefore  that  what  has  these  properties  is 
good : and  from  a consideration  of  what  it  is  to  be  real,  we  can 
again  infer  what  it  is  that  has  these  properties.  It  is  plain 
that,  if  such  reasoning  were  correct,  any  answer  which  could  be 
given  to  the  question  ‘What  is  good  in  itself?’  could  be  arrived 
at  by  a purely  metaphysical  discussion  and  by  that  alone.  Just 
as,  when  Mill  supposed  that  ‘ to  be  good  ’ meant  ‘ to  be  desired,’ 
the  question  ‘ What  is  good  ? ’ could  be  and  must  be  answered 
solely  by  an  empirical  investigation  of  the  question  what  was 
desired  ; so  here,  if  to  be  good  means  to  have  some  supersensible 
property,  the  ethical  question  can  and  must  be  answered  by  a 
metaphysical  enquiry  into  the  question.  What  has  this  property  ? 
What,  then,  remains  to  be  done  in  order  to  destroy  the  plausi- 
bility of  Metaphysical  Ethics,  is  to  expose  the  chief  errors 
which  seem  to  have  led  metaphysicians  to  suppose  that  to  be 
good  means  to  possess  some  supersensible  property. 

73.  What,  then,  are  the  chief  reasons  which  have  made  it 
seem  plausible  to  maintain  that  to  be  good  must  mean  to 
possess  some  supersensible  property  or  to  be  related  to  some 
supersensible  reality  ? 

We  may,  first  of  all,  notice  one,  which  seems  to  have  had 
some  influence  in  causing  the  view  that  good  must  be  defined 
by  some  such  property,  although  it  does  not  suggest  any  par- 
ticular property  as  the  one  required.  This  reason  lies  in  the 
supposition  that  the  proposition  ‘ This  is  good  ’ or  ‘ This  would 
be  good,  if  it  existed’  must,  in  a certain  respect,  be  of  the 


124 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


[chap. 


same  type  as  other  propositions.  The  fact  is  that  there  is  one 
type  of  proposition  so  familiar  to  everyone,  and  therefore  having 
such  a strong  hold  upon  the  imagination,  that  philosophers  have 
always  supposed  that  all  other  types  must  be  reducible  to  it. 
This  type  is  that  of  the  objects  of  experience — of  all  those  truths 
which  occupy  our  minds  for  the  immensely  greater  part  of  our 
waking  lives : truths  such  as  that  somebody  is  in  the  room,  that 
I am  writing  or  eating  or  talking.  All  these  truths,  however 
much  they  may  differ,  have  this  in  common  that  in  them  both 
the  grammatical  subject  and  the  grammatical  predicate  stand  for 
something  which  exists.  Immensely  the  commonest  type  of 
truth,  then,  is  one  which  asserts  a relation  between  two  existing 
things.  Ethical  truths  are  immediately  felt  not  to  conform  to 
this  type,  and  the  naturalistic  fallacy  arises  from  the  attempt  to 
make  out  that,  in  some  roundabout  way,  they  do  conform  to  it. 
It  is  immediately  obvious  that  when  we  see  a thing  to  be  good, 
its  goodness  is  not  a property  which  we  can  take  up  in  our 
hands,  or  separate  from  it  even  by  the  most  delicate  scientific 
instruments,  and  transfer  to  something  else.  It  is  not,  in  fact, 
like  most  of  the  predicates  which  we  ascribe  to  things,  a part  of 
the  thing  to  which  we  ascribe  it.  But  philosophers  suppose  that 
the  reason  why  we  cannot  take  goodness  up  and  move  it  about, 
is  not  that  it  is  a different  kind  of  object  from  any  which  can  be 
moved  about,  but  only  that  it  necessarily  exists  together  with 
anything  with  which  it  does  exist.  They  explain  the  type  of 
ethical  truths  by  supposing  it  identical  with  the  type  of 
scientific  laws.  And  it  is  only  when  they  have  done  this  that 
the  naturalistic  philosophers  proper — those  who  are  empiricists 
— and  those  whom  I have  called  ' metaphysical  ’ part  company. 
These  two  classes  of  philosophers  do,  indeed,  differ  with  regard 
to  the  nature  of  scientific  laws.  The  former  class  tend  to 
suppose  that  when  they  say  ‘This  always  accompanies  that’ 
they  mean  only  ‘ This  has  accompanied,  does  now,  and  will 
accompany  that  in  these  particular  instances  ’ : they  reduce  the 
scientific  law  quite  simply  and  directly  to  the  familiar  type  of 
proposition  which  I have  pointed  out.  But  this  does  not  satisfy 
the  metaphysicians.  They  see  that  when  you  say  ‘ This  would 
accompany  that,  if  that  existed,’  you  don’t  mean  only  that  this 


IV] 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


125 


and  that  have  existed  and  will  exist  together  so  many  times.  But 
it  is  beyond  even  their  powers  to  believe  that  what  you  do 
mean  is  merely  what  you  say.  They  still  think  you  must  mean, 
somehow  or  other,  that  something  does  exist,  since  that  is  what 
you  generally  mean  when  you  say  anything.  They  are  as 
unable  as  the  empiricists  to  imagine  that  you  can  ever  mean 
that  2 + 2 = 4.  The  empiricists  say  this  means  that  so  many 
couples  of  couples  of  things  have  in  each  case  been  four  things; 
and  hence  that  2 and  2 would  not  make  4,  unless  precisely  those 
things  had  existed.  The  metaphysicians  feel  that  this  is  wrong ; 
but  they  themselves  have  no  better  account  of  its  meaning  to 
give  than  either,  with  Leibniz,  that  God’s  mind  is  in  a certain 
state,  or,  with  Kant,  that  your  mind  is  in  a certain  state,  or 
finally,  with  Mr  Bradley,  that  something  is  in  a certain  state. 
Here,  then,  we  have  the  root  of  the  naturalistic  fallacy.  The 
metaphysicians  have  the  merit  of  seeing  that  when  you  say 
‘This  would  be  good,  if  it  existed,’  you  can’t  mean  merely  ‘This 
has  existed  and  was  desired,’  however  many  times  that  may 
have  been  the  case.  They  will  admit  that  some  good  things 
have  not  existed  in  this  world,  and  even  that  some  may  not 
have  been  desired.  But  what  you  can  mean,  except  that  some- 
thing exists,  they  really  cannot  see.  Precisely  the  same  error 
which  leads  them  to  suppose  that  there  must  eocist  a super- 
sensible Reality,  leads  them  to  commit  the  naturalistic  fallacy 
with  regard  to  the  meaning  of  ‘good.’  Every  truth,  they  think, 
must  mean  somehow  that  something  exists;  and  since,  unlike 
the  empiricists,  they  recognise  some  truths  which  do  not  mean 
that  anything  exists  here  and  now,  these  they  think  must  mean 
that  something  exists  not  here  and  now.  On  the  same  principle, 
since  ‘good’  is  a predicate  which  neither  does  nor  can  exist, 
they  are  bound  to  suppose  either  that  ‘to  be  good’  means  to  be 
related  to  some  other  particular  thing  which  can  exist  and  does 
exist  ‘in  reality’;  or  else  that  it  means  merely  ‘to  belong  to  the 
real  world  ’ — that  goodness  is  transcended  or  absorbed  in  reality. 

74.  That  such  a reduction  of  all  propositions  to  the  type  of 
those  which  assert  either  that  something  exists  or  that  some- 
thing which  exists  has  a certain  attribute  (which  means,  that 
both  exist  in  a certain  relation  to  one  another),  is  erroneous. 


126 


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[chap. 


may  easily  be  seen  by  reference  to  the  particular  class  of  ethical 
propositions.  For  whatever  we  may  have  proved  to  exist,  and 
whatever  two  existents  we  may  have  proved  to  be  necessarily 
connected  with  one  another,  it  still  remains  a distinct  and 
different  question  whether  what  thus  exists  is  good;  whether 
either  or  both  of  the  two  existents  is  so;  and  whether  it  is  good 
that  they  should  exist  together.  To  assert  the  one  is  plainly 
and  obviously  not  the  same  thing  as  to  assert  the  other.  We 
understand  what  we  mean  by  asking : Is  this,  which  exists,  or 
necessarily  exists,  after  all,  good  ? and  we  perceive  that  we  are 
asking  a question  which  has  not  been  answered.  In  face  of 
this  direct  perception  that  the  two  questions  are  distinct,  no 
proof  that  they  must  be  identical  can  have  the  slightest  value. 
That  the  proposition  ‘This  is  good’  is  thus  distinct  from  every 
other  proposition  was  proved  in  Chapter  I. ; and  I may  now 
illustrate  this  fact  by  pointing  out  how  it  is  distinguished  from 
two  particular  propositions  with  which  it  has  commonly  been 
identified.  That  so  and  so  ought  to  be  done  is  commonly  called 
a moral  law;  and  this  phrase  naturally  suggests  that  this 
proposition  is  in  some  way  analogous  either  to  a natural  law,  or 
to  a law  in  the  legal  sense,  or  to  both.  All  three  are,  in  fact, 
really  analogous  in  one  respect,  and  in  one  respect  only;  that 
they  include  a proposition  which  is  universal.  A moral  law 
asserts  ‘This  is  good  in  all  cases’;  a natural  law  asserts  ‘This 
happens  in  all  cases’ ; and  a law,  in  the  legal  sense,  ‘It  is  com- 
manded that  this  be  done,  or  be  left  undone,  in  all  cases.’  But 
since  it  is  very  natural  to  suppose  that  the  analogy  extends 
further,  and  that  the  assertion  ‘This  is  good  in  all  cases’  is 
equivalent  to  the  assertion  ‘This  happens  in  all  cases’  or  to  the 
assertion  ‘It  is  commanded  that  this  be  done  in  all  cases,’  it 
may  be  useful  briefiy  to  point  out  that  they  are  not  equivalent. 

75.  The  fallacy  of  supposing  moral  law  to  be  analogous  to 
natural  law  in  respect  of  asserting  that  some  action  is  one  which 
is  always  necessarily  done  is  contained  in  one  of  the  most  famous 
doctrines  of  Kant.  Kant  identifies  what  ought  to  be  with  the 
law  according  to  which  a Free  or  Pure  Will  must  act — with  the 
only  kind  of  action  which  is  possible  for  it.  And  by  this 
identification  he  does  not  mean  merely  to  assert  that  the  Free 


IV] 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


127 


Will  is  also  under  the  necessity  of  doing  what  it  ought;  he 
means  that  what  it  ought  to  do  means  nothing  but  its  own  law 
— the  law  according  to  which  it  must  act.  It  differs  from  the 
human  will  just  in  that,  what  we  ought  to  do,  is  what  it 
necessarily  does.  It  is  ‘autonomous’;  and  by  this  is  meant 
(among  other  things)  that  there  is  no  separate  standard  by 
which  it  can  be  judged;  that  the  question  ‘Is  the  law  by  which 
this  Will  acts  a good  one  V is,  in  its  case,  meaningless.  It  fol- 
lows that  what  is  necessarily  willed  by  this  Pure  Will  is  good, 
not  because  that  Will  is  good,  nor  for  any  other  reason;  but 
merely  because  it  is  what  is  necessarily  willed  by  a Pure  Will. 

Kant’s  assertion  of  the  ‘ Autonomy  of  the  Practical  Reason  ’ 
thus  has  the  very  opposite  effect  to  that  which  he  desired; 
it  makes  his  Ethics  ultimately  and  hopelessly  ‘ heteronomous.’ 
His  Moral  Law  is  ‘independent’  of  Metaphysics  only  in  the 
sense  that  according  to  him  we  can  know  it  independently;  he 
holds  that  we  can  only  infer  that  there  is  Freedom,  from  the 
fact  that  the  Moral  Law  is  true.  And  so  far  as  he  keeps  strictly 
to  this  view,  he  does  avoid  the  error,  into  which  most  meta- 
physical writers  fall,  of  allowing  his  opinions  as  to  what  is  real 
to  influence  his  judgments  of  what  is  good.  But  he  fails  to  see 
that  on  his  view  the  Moral  Law  is  dependent  upon  Freedom  in 
a far  more  important  sense  than  that  in  which  Freedom  depends 
on  the  Moral  Law.  He  admits  that  Freedom  is  the  ratio 
essendi  of  the  Moral  Law,  whereas  the  latter  is  only  ratio  cog- 
noscendi  of  Freedom.  And  this  means  that,  unless  Reality  be 
such  as  he  says,  no  assertion  that  ‘This  is  good’  can  possibly  be 
true : it  can  indeed  have  no  meaning.  He  has,  therefore, 
furnished  his  opponents  with  a conclusive  method  of  attacking 
the  validity  of  the  Moral  Law.  If  they  can  only  shew  by  some 
other  means  (which  he  denies  to  be  possible  but  leaves  theo- 
retically open)  that  the  nature  of  Reality  is  not  such  as  he  says, 
he  cannot  deny  that  they  will  have  proved  his  ethical  principle 
to  be  false.  If  that  ‘This  ought  to  be  done’  means  ‘This  is 
willed  by  a Free  Will,’  then,  if  it  can  be  shewn  that  there  is  no 
Free  Will  which  wills  anything,  it  will  follow  that  nothing  ought 
to  be  done. 

76.  And  Kant  also  commits  the  fallacy  of  supposing  that 


128 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


[chap. 


‘ This  ought  to  he  ’ means  ‘ This  is  commanded.’  He  conceives 
the  Moral  Law  to  be  an  Imperative.  And  this  is  a very  common 
mistake.  ‘ This  ought  to  be,’  it  is  assumed,  must  mean  ‘ This  is 
commanded  ’ ; nothing,  therefore,  would  be  good  unless  it  were 
commanded;  and  since  commands  in  this  world  are  liable  to  be 
erroneous,  what  ought  to  be  in  its  ultimate  sense  means  ‘what 
is  commanded  by  some  real  supersensible  authority.’  With 
regard  to  this  authority  it  is,  then,  no  longer  possible  to  ask 
Is  it  righteous  ? ’ Its  commands  cannot  fail  to  be  right, 
because  to  be  right  means  to  be  what  it  commands.  Here, 
therefore,  law,  in  the  moral  sense,  is  supposed  analogous  to  law, 
in  the  legal  sense,  rather  than,  as  in  the  last  instance,  to  law  in 
the  natural  sense.  It  is  supposed  that  moral  obligation  is 
analogous  to  legal  obligation,  with  this  difference  only  that 
whereas  the  source  of  legal  obligation  is  earthly,  that  of  moral 
obligation  is  heavenly.  Yet  it  is  obvious  that  if  by  a source  of 
obligation  is  meant  only  a power  which  binds  you  or  compels 
you  to  do  a thing,  it  is  not  because  it  does  do  this  that  you 
ought  to  obey  it.  It  is  only  if  it  be  itself  so  good,  that  it 
commands  and  enforces  only  what  is  good,  that  it  can  be  a 
source  of  moral  obligation.  And  in  that  case  what  it  commands 
and  enforces  would  be  good,  whether  commanded  and  enforced 
or  not.  Just  that  which  makes  an  obligation  legal,  namely  the 
fact  that  it  is  commanded  by  a certain  kind  of  authority,  is 
entirely  irrelevant  to  a moral  obligation.  However  an  authority 
be  defined,  its  commands  will  be  morally  binding  only  if  they 
are — morally  binding ; only  if  they  tell  us  what  ought  to  be 
or  what  is  a means  to  that  which  ought  to  be. 

77.  In  this  last  error,  in  the  supposition  that  when  I say 
‘You  ought  to  do  this’  I must  mean  ‘You  are  commanded  to  do 
this,’  we  have  one  of  the  reasons  which  has  led  to  the  supposition 
that  the  particular  supersensible  property  by  reference  to  which 
good  must  be  defined  is  Will.  And  that  ethical  conclusions 
may  be  obtained  by  enquiring  into  the  nature  of  a fundamentally 
real  Will  seems  to  be  by  far  the  commonest  assumption  of 
Metaphysical  Ethics  at  the  present  day.  But  this  assumption 
seems  to  owe  its  plausibility,  not  so  much  to  the  supposition 
that  ‘ought’  expresses  a ‘command,’  as  to  a far  more  funda- 


IV] 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


129 


mental  error.  This  error  consists  in  supposing  that  to  ascribe 
certain  predicates  to  a thing  is  the  same  thing  as  to  say  that 
that  thing  is  the  object  of  a certain  kind  of  psychical  state.  It 
is  supposed  that  to  say  that  a thing  is  real  or  true  is  the  same 
thing  as  to  say  that  it  is  known  in  a certain  way ; and  that  the 
difference  between  the  assertion  that  it  is  good  and  the  asser- 
tion that  it  is  real- — ^between  an  ethical,  therefore,  and  a meta- 
physical proposition — consists  in  the  fact  that  whereas  the  latter 
asserts  its  relation  to  Cognition  the  former  asserts  its  relation 
to  Will. 

Now  that  this  is  an  error  has  been  already  shewn  in 
Chapter  I.  That  the  assertion  ‘ This  is  good  ’ is  not  identical 
with  the  assertion  ‘This  is  willed,’  either  by  a supersensible  will, 
or  otherwise,  nor  with  any  other  proposition,  has  been  proved ; 
nor  can  I add  anything  to  that  proof.  But  in  face  of  this  proof 
it  may  be  anticipated  that  two  lines  of  defence  may  be  taken 
up.  (1)  It  may  be  maintained  that,  nevertheless,  they  really 
are  identical,  and  facts  may  be  pointed  out  which  seem  to  prove 
that  identity.  Or  else  (2)  it  may  be  said  that  an  absolute 
identity  is  not  maintained : that  it  is  only  meant  to  assert  that 
there  is  some  special  connection  between  will  and  goodness, 
such  as  makes  an  enquiry  into  the  real  nature  of  the  former  an 
essential  step  in  the  proof  of  ethical  conclusions.  In  order  to 
meet  these  two  possible  objections,  I propose  first  to  shew  what 
possible  connections  there  are  or  may  be  between  goodness  and 
will ; and  that  none  of  these  can  justify  us  in  asserting  that 
‘ This  is  good  ’ is  identical  with  ‘ This  is  willed.’  On  the  other 
hand  it  will  appear  that  some  of  them  may  be  easily  confused 
with  this  assertion  of  identity ; and  that  therefore  the  confusion 
is  likely  to  have  been  made.  This  part  of  my  argument  will, 
therefore,  already  go  some  way  towards  meeting  the  second 
objection.  But  what  must  be  conclusive  against  this  is  to  shew 
that  any  possible  connection  between  will  and  goodness  except 
the  absolute  identity  in  question,  would  not  be  sufficient  to  give 
an  enquiry  into  Will  the  smallest  relevance  to  the  proof  of  any 
ethical  conclusion. 

78.  It  has  been  customary,  since  Kant’s  time,  to  assert 
that  Cognition,  Volition,  and  Feeling  are  three  fundamentally 


130 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


[chap. 


distinct  attitudes  of  the  mind  towards  reality.  They  are  three 
distinct  ways  of  experiencing,  and  each  of  them  informs  us  of 
a distinct  aspect  under  which  reality  may  be  considered.  The 
‘ Epistemological  ’ method  of  approaching  Metaphysics  rests  on 
the  assumption  that  by  considering  what  is  ‘ implied  in  ’ Cog- 
nition— what  is  its  ‘ ideal  ’ — we  may  discover  what  properties 
the  world  must  have,  if  it  is  to  be  true.  And  similarly  it  is 
held  that  by  considering  what  is  ‘ implied  in  ’ the  fact  of  Willing 
or  Feeling — what  is  the  ‘ideal’  which  they  presuppose — we  may 
discover  what  properties  the  world  must  have,  if  it  is  to  be  good 
or  beautiful.  The  orthodox  Idealistic  Epistemologist  differs 
from  the  Sensationalist  or  Empiricist  in  holding  that  what  we 
directly  cognise  is  neither  all  true  nor  yet  the  whole  truth  : in 
order  to  reject  the  false  and  to  discover  further  truths  we  must, 
he  says,  not  take  cognition  merely  as  it  presents  itself,  but  dis- 
cover what  is  impHed  in  it.  And  similarly  the  orthodox  Meta- 
physical Ethicist  differs  from  the  mere  Naturalist,  in  holding 
that  not  everything  which  we  actually  will  is  good,  nor,  if  good, 
completely  good : what  is  really  good  is  that  which  is  implied 
in  the  essential  nature  of  will.  Others  again  think  that  Feeling, 
and  not  Will,  is  the  fundamental  datum  for  Ethics.  But,  in 
either  case,  it  is  agreed  that  Ethics  has  some  relation  to  Will  or 
Feeling  which  it  has  not  to  Cognition,  and  which  other  objects 
of  study  have  to  Cognition.  Will  or  Feeling,  on  the  one  hand, 
and  Cognition,  on  the  other,  are  regarded  as  in  some  sense  co- 
ordinate sources  of  philosophical  knowledge — the  one  of  Practical, 
the  other  of  Theoretical  philosophy. 

What,  that  is  true,  can  possibly  be  meant  by  this  view  ? 

79.  F irst  of  all,  it  may  be  meant  that,  just  as,  by  reflection 
on  our  perceptual  and  sensory  experience,  we  become  aware  of 
the  distinction  between  truth  and  falsehood,  so  it  is  by  reflection 
on  our  experiences  of  feeling  and  willing  that  we  become  aware 
of  ethical  distinctions.  We  should  not  know  what  was  meant 
by  thinking  one  thing  better  than  another  unless  the  attitude 
of  our  will  or  feeling  towards  one  thing  was  different  from  its 
attitude  towards  another.  All  this  may  be  admitted.  But  so 
far  we  have  only  the  psychological  fact  that  it  is  only  because 
we  will  or  feel  things  in  a certain  way,  that  we  ever  come  to 


IV] 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


131 


think  them  good ; just  as  it  is  only  because  we  have  certain 
perceptual  experiences,  that  we  ever  come  to  think  things  true. 
Here,  then,  is  a special  connection  between  willing  and  good- 
ness ; but  it  is  only  a causal  connection — that  willing  is  a 
necessary  condition  for  the  cognition  of  goodness. 

But  it  may  be  said  further  that  willing  and  feeling  are  not 
only  the  origin  of  cognitions  of  goodness;  but  that  to  will  a 
thing,  or  to  have  a certain  feeling  towards  a thing,  is  the  savie 
thing  as  to  think  it  good.  And  it  may  be  admitted  that  even 
this  is  generally  true  in  a sense.  It  does  seem  to  be  true  that 
we  hardly  ever  think  a thing  good,  and  never  very  decidedly, 
without  at  the  same  time  having  a special  attitude  of  feeling 
or  will  towards  it ; though  it  is  certainly  not  the  case  that  this 
is  true  universally.  And  the  converse  may  possibly  be  true 
universally : it  may  be  the  case  that  a perception  of  goodness 
is  included  in  the  complex  facts  which  we  mean  by  willing  and 
by  having  certain  kinds  of  feeling.  Let  us  admit  then,  that 
to  think  a thing  good  and  to  will  it  are  the  same  thing  in  this 
sense,  that,  wherever  the  latter  occurs,  the  former  also  occurs 
as  a part  of  it ; and  even  that  they  are  generally  the  same  thing 
in  the  converse  sense,  that  when  the  former  occurs  it  is  gener- 
ally a part  of  the  latter. 

80.  These  facts  may  seem  to  give  countenance  to  the 
general  assertion  that  to  think  a thing  good  is  to  prefer  it  or 
approve  it,  in  the  sense  in  which  preference  and  approval  denote 
certain  kinds  of  will  or  feeling.  It  seems  to  be  always  true 
that  when  we  thus  prefer  or  approve,  there  is  included  in  that 
fact  the  fact  that  we  think  good ; and  it  is  certainly  true,  in 
an  immense  majority  of  instances,  that  when  we  think  good, 
we  also  prefer  or  approve.  It  is  natural  enough,  then,  to  say 
that  to  think  good  is  to  prefer.  And  what  more  natural  than  to 
add : When  I say  a thing  is  good,  I mean  that  I prefer  it  ? 
And  yet  this  natural  addition  involves  a gross  confusion.  Even 
if  it  be  true  that  to  think  good  is  the  same  thing  as  to  prefer 
(which,  as  we  have  seen,  is  never  true  in  the  sense  that  they 
are  absolutely  identical ; and  not  always  true,  even  in  the  sense 
that  they  occur  together),  yet  it  is  not  true  that  tvhat  you 
think,  when  you  think  a thing  good,  is  that  you  prefer  it. 


132 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


[chap. 


Even  if  your  thinking  the  thing  good  is  the  same  thing  as  your 
preference  of  it,  yet  the  goodness  of  the  thing^ — that  of  which 
you  think— is,  for  that  very  reason,  obviously  not  the  same 
thing  as  your  preference  of  it.  Whether  you  have  a certain 
thought  or  not  is  one  question;  and  whether  what  you  think  is 
true  is  quite  a different  one,  upon  which  the  answer  to  the 
first  has  not  the  least  bearing.  The  fact  that  you  prefer  a 
thing  does  not  tend  to  shew  that  the  thing  is  good ; even  if  it 
does  shew  that  you  think  it  so. 

It  seems  to  be  owing  to  this  confusion,  that  the  question 
‘What  is  good?’  is  thought  to  be  identical  with  the  question 
‘What  is  preferred?’  It  is  said,  with  sufficient  truth,  that  you 
would  never  know  a thing  was  good  unless  you  preferred  it, 
just  as  you  would  never  know  a thing  existed  unless  you  per- 
ceived it.  But  it  is  added,  and  this  is  false,  that  you  would 
never  know  a thing  was  good  unless  you  knew  that  you  pre- 
ferred it,  or  that  it  existed  unless  you  knew  that  you  perceived 
it.  And  it  is  finally  added,  and  this  is  utterly  false,  that  you 
cannot  distinguish  the  fact  that  a thing  is  good  from  the  fact 
that  you  prefer  it,  or  the  fact  that  it  exists  from  the  fact  that 
you  perceive  it.  It  is  often  pointed  out  that  I cannot  at  any 
given  moment  distinguish  what  is  true  from  what  I think  so; 
and  this  is  true.  But  though  I cannot  distinguish  what  is 
true  from  what  I think  so,  I always  can  distinguish  what  I 
mean  by  saying  that  it  is  true  from  what  I mean  by  saying  that 
I think  so.  For  I understand  the  meaning  of  the  supposition 
that  what  I think  true  may  nevertheless  be  false.  When, 
therefore,  I assert  that  it  is  true  I mean  to  assert  something 
different  from  the  fact  that  I think  so.  What  I think,  namely 
that  something  is  true,  is  always  quite  distinct  from  the  fact 
that  I think  it.  The  assertion  that  it  is  true  does  not  even 
include  the  assertion  that  I think  it  so;  although,  of  course, 
whenever  I do  think  a thing  true,  it  is,  as  a matter  of  fact,  also 
true  that  I do  think  it.  This  tautologous  proposition  that  for 
a thing  to  be  thought  true  it  is  necessary  that  it  should  be 
thought,  is,  however,  commonly  identified  with  the  proposition 
that  for  a thing  to  he  true  it  is  necessary  th.at  it  should  be 
thought.  A very  little  reflection  should  suffice  to  convince 


IV] 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


133 


anyone  that  this  identification  is  erroneous;  and  a very  little 
more  will  shew  that,  if  so,  we  must  mean  by  ‘true’  something 
which  includes  no  reference  to  thinking  or  to  any  other 
psychical  fact.  It  may  be  difficult  to  discover  precisely  what 
we  mean — to  hold  the  object  in  question  before  us,  so  as  to 
compare  it  with  other  objects:  but  that  we  do  mean  something 
distinct  and  unique  can  no  longer  be  matter  of  doubt.  That 
‘to  be  true’  means  to  be  thought  in  a certain  way  is,  therefore, 
certainly  false.  Yet  this  assertion  plays  the  most  essential  part  in 
Kant’s  ‘Copernican  revolution’  of  philosophy,  and  renders  worth- 
less the  whole  mass  of  modern  literature,  to  which  that  revolution 
has  given  rise,  and  which  is  called  Epistemology.  Kant  held 
that  what  was  unified  in  a certain  manner  by  the  synthetic 
activity  of  thought  was  ipso  facto  true : that  this  was  the  very 
meaning  of  the  word.  Whereas  it  is  plain  that  the  only  con- 
nection which  can  possibly  hold  between  being  true  and  being 
thought  in  a certain  way,  is  that  the  latter  should  be  a criterion 
or  test  of  the  former.  In  order,  however,  to  establish  that  it  is 
so,  it  would  be  necessary  to  establish  by  the  methods  of  induc- 
tion that  what  was  true  was  always  thought  in  a certain  wtiy. 
Modern  Epistemology  dispenses  with  this  long  and  difficult 
investigation  at  the  cost  of  the  self-contradictory  assumption 
that  ‘truth’  and  the  criterion  of  truth  are  one  and  the  same 
thing. 

81.  It  is,  then,  a very  natural,  though  an  utterly  false 
supposition  that  for  a thing  to  he  true  is  the  same  thing  as 
for  it  to  be  perceived  or  thought  of  in  a certain  way.  And 
since,  for  the  reasons  given  above,  the  fact  of  preference  seems 
roughly  to  stand  in  the  same  relation  to  thinking  things  good, 
in  which  the  fact  of  perception  stands  to  thinking  that  they  are 
true  or  exist,  it  is  very  natural  that  for  a thing  to  he  good 
should  be  supposed  identical  with  its  being  preferred  in  a certain 
way.  But  once  this  coordination  of  Volition  and  Cognition  has 
been  accepted,  it  is  again  very  natural  that  every  fact  which 
seems  to  support  the  conclusion  that  being  true  is  identical 
with  being  cognised  should  confirm  the  corresponding  con- 
clusion that  being  good  is  identical  with  being  willed.  It  will, 
therefore,  be  in  place  to  point  out  another  confusion,  which 


6 


M 


134:  METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS  [CHAP. 

seems  to  have  had  great  influence  in  causing  acceptance  of  the 
view  that  to  be  true  is  the  same  thing  as  to  be  cognised. 

This  confusion  is  due  to  a failure  to  observe  that  when  we 
say  we  have  a sensation  or  perception  or  that  we  know  a thing, 
we  mean  to  assert  not  only  that  our  mind  is  cognitive,  but  also 
that  that  which  it  cognises  is  true.  It  is  not  observed  that  the 
usage  of  these  words  is  such  that,  if  a thing  be  untrue,  that 
fact  alone  is  sufficient  to  justify  us  in  saying  that  the  person 
who  says  he  perceives  or  knows  it,  does  not  perceive  or  know  it, 
without  our  either  enquiring  whether,  or  assuming  that,  his  state 
of  mind  differs  in  any  respect  from  what  it  would  have  been 
had  he  perceived  or  known.  By  this  denial  we  do  not  accuse 
him  of  an  error  in  introspection,  even  if  there  was  such  an 
error:  we  do  not  deny  that  he  was  aware  of  a certain  object, 
nor  even  that  his  state  of  mind  was  exactly  such  as  he  took  it 
to  be:  we  merely  deny  that  the  object,  of  which  he  was  aware, 
had  a certain  property.  It  is,  however,  commonly  supposed 
that  when  we  assert  a thing  to  be  perceived  or  known,  we  are 
asserting  one  fact  only;  and  since  of  the  two  facts  which  we 
really  assert,  the  existence  of  a physical  state  is  by  far  the 
easier  to  distinguish,  it  is  supposed  that  this  is  the  only  one 
which  we  do  assert.  Thus  perception  and  sensation  have  come 
to  be  regarded  as  if  they  denoted  certain  states  of  mind  and 
nothing  more;  a mistake  which  was  the  easier  to  make  since 
the  commonest  state  of  mind,  to  which  we  give  a name  which 
does  not  imply  that  its  object  is  true,  namely  imagination,  may, 
with  some  plausibility,  be  supposed  to  differ  from  sensation  and 
perception  not  only  in  the  property  possessed  by  its  object,  but 
also  in  its  character  as  a state  of  mind.  It  has  thus  come  to  be 
supposed  that  the  only  difference  between  perception  and 
imagination,  by  which  they  can  be  defined,  must  be  a merely 
psychical  difference:  and,  if  this  were  the  case,  it  would  follow 
at  once  that  to  he  true  was  identical  with  being  cognised  in 
a certain  way;  since  the  assertion  that  a thing  is  perceived  does 
certainly  include  the  assertion  that  it  is  true,  and  if,  neverthe- 
less, that  it  is  perceived  means  only  that  the  mind  has  a certain 
attitude  towards  it,  then  its  truth  must  be  identical  with  the 
fact  that  it  is  regarded  in  this  way.  We  may,  then,  attribute 


IV] 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


135 


the  view  that  to  be  true  means  to  be  cognised  in  a certain  way 
partly  to  the  failure  to  perceive  that  certain  words,  which  are 
commonly  supposed  to  stand  for  nothing  more  than  a certain 
kind  of  cognitive  state,  do,  in  fact,  also  include  a reference  to 
the  truth  of  the  object  of  such  states. 

82.  I will  now  sum  up  my  account  of  the  apparent  con- 
nections between  will  and  ethical  propositions,  which  seem  to 
support  the  vague  conviction  that  ‘This  is  good’  is  somehow 
identical  with  ‘This  is  willed  in  a certain  way.’  (1)  It  may  be 
maintained,  with  sufficient  show  of  truth,  that  it  is  only  be- 
cause certain  things  were  originally  willed,  that  we  ever  came 
to  have  ethical  convictions  at  all.  And  it  has  been  too  com- 
monly assumed  that  to  shew  what  was  the  cause  of  a thing  is 
the  same  thing  as  to  shew  what  the  thing  itself  is.  It  is,  how- 
ever, hardly  necessary  to  point  out  that  this  is  not  the  case. 
(2)  It  may  be  further  maintained,  with  some  plausibility,  that 
to  think  a thing  good  and  to  will  it  in  a certain  way  are  now 
as  a matter  of  fact  identical.  We  must,  however,  distinguish 
certain  possible  meanings  of  this  assertion.  It  may  be  admitted 
that  when  we  think  a thing  good,  we  generally  have  a special 
attitude  of  will  or  feeling  towards  it;  and  that,  perhaps,  when 
we  will  it  in  a certain  way,  we  do  always  think  it  good.  But 
the  very  fact  that  we  can  thus  distinguish  the  question  whether, 
though  the  one  is  always  accompanied  by  the  other,  yet  this 
other  may  not  always  be  accompanied  by  the  first,  shews  that 
the  two  things  are  not,  in  the  strict  sense,  identical.  The  fact 
is  that,  whatever  we  mean  by  will,  or  by  any  form  of  will,  the  fact 
we  mean  by  it  certainly  always  includes  something  else  beside 
the  thinking  a thing  good:  and  hence  that,  when  willing  and 
thinking  good  are  asserted  to  be  identical,  the  most  that  can  be 
meant  is  that  this  other  element  in  will  always  both  accom- 
panies and  is  accompanied  by  the  thinking  good;  and  this,  as 
has  been  said,  is  of  very  doubtful  truth  Even,  however,  if  it 
were  strictly  true,  the  fact  that  the  two  things  can  be  dis- 
tinguished is  fatal  to  the  assumed  coordination  between  will 
and  cognition,  in  one  of  the  senses  in  which  that  assumption  is 
commonly  made.  For  it  is  only  in  respect  of  the  other  element 
in  will,  that  volition  differs  from  cognition;  whereas  it  is  only 

6-a 


136 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


[chap. 


in  respect  of  the  fact  that  volition,  or  some  form  of  volition, 
includes  a cognition  of  goodness,  that  v^ill  can  have  the  same 
relation  to  ethical,  which  cognition  has  to  metaphysical,  pro- 
positions. Accordingly  the  fact  of  volition,  as  a whole,  that 
is,  if  we  include  in  it  the  element  which  makes  it  volition  and 
distinguishes  it  from  cognition,  has  not  the  same  relation  to 
ethical  propositions  which  cognition  has  to  those  which  are 
metaphysical.  Volition  and  cognition  are  not  coordinate  ways 
of  experiencing,  since  it  is  only  in  so  far  as  volition  denotes 
a complex  fact,  which  includes  in  it  the  one  identical  simple 
fact,  which  is  meant  by  cognition,  that  volition  is  a way  of 
experiencing  at  all. 

But,  (3)  if  we  allow  the  terms  ‘volition’  or  ‘will’  to  stand 
for  ‘thinking  good,’  although  they  certainly  do  not  commonly 
stand  for  this,  there  still  remains  the  question : What  con- 
nection would  this  fact  establish  between  volition  and  Ethics  ? 
Could  the  enquiry  into  what  was  willed  be  identical  with  the 
ethical  enquiry  into  what  was  good  ? It  is  plain  enough  that 
they  could  not  be  identical;  though  it  is  also  plain  why  they 
should  be  thought  so.  The  question  ‘What  is  good?’  is  con- 
fused with  the  question  ‘What  is  thought  good?’  and  the 
question  What  is  true?’  with  the  question  ‘What  is  thought 
true?’  for  two  main  reasons.  (1)  One  of  these  is  the  general 
difficulty  that  is  found  in  distinguishing  what  is  cognised  from 
the  cognition  of  it.  It  is  observed  that  I certainly  cannot  cognise 
anything  that  is  true  without  cognising  it.  Since,  therefore, 
whenever  I know  a thing  that  is  true,  the  thing  is  certainly 
cognised,  it  is  assumed  that  for  a thing  to  be  true  at  all  is  the 
same  thing  as  for  it  to  be  cognised.  And  (2)  it  is  not  observed 
that  certain  words,  which  are  supposed  to  denote  only  peculiar 
species  of  cognition,  do  as  a matter  of  fact  also  denote  that  the 
object  cognised  is  true.  Thus  if  ‘perception’  be  taken  to  denote 
only  a certain  kind  of  mental  fact,  then,  since  the  object  of  it  is 
always  true,  it  becomes  easy  to  suppose  that  to  be  true  means 
only  to  be  object  to  a mental  state  of  that  kind.  And  similarly 
it  is  easy  to  suppose  that  to  be  truly  good  differs  from  being 
falsely  thought  so,  solely  in  respect  of  the  fact  that  to  be 
the  former  is  to  be  the  object  of  a volition  differing  from  that 


IV] 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


137 


of  which  an  apparent  good  is  the  object,  in  the  same  way  in 
which  a perception  (on  this  supposition)  differs  from  an  illusion. 

83,  Being  good,  then,  is  not  identical  with  being  willed 
or  felt  in  any  kind  of  way,  any  more  than  being  true  is  identical 
with  being  thought  in  any  kind  of  way.  But  let  us  suppose 
this  to  be  admitted : Is  it  still  possible  that  an  enquiry  into 
the  nature  of  will  or  feeling  should  be  a necessary  step  to  the 
proof  of  ethical  conclusions  ? If  being  good  and  being  willed 
are  not  identical,  then  the  most  that  can  be  maintained  with 
regard  to  the  connection  of  goodness  with  will  is  that  what 
is  good  is  always  also  willed  in  a certain  way,  and  that  what 
is  willed  in  a certain  way  is  always  also  good.  And  it  may 
be  said  that  this  is  all  that  is  meant  by  those  metaphysical 
writers  who  profess  to  base  Ethics  upon  the  Metaphysics  of 
Will.  What  would  follow  from  this  supposition  ? 

It  is  plain  that  if  what  is  willed  in  a certain  way  were  always 
also  good,  then  the  fact  that  a thing  was  so  willed  would  be 
a criterion  of  its  goodness.  But  in  order  to  establish  that  will 
is  a criterion  of  goodness,  we  must  be  able  to  shew  first  and 
separately  that  in  a great  number  of  the  instances  in  which  we 
find  a certain  kind  of  will  we  also  find  that  the  objects  of  that 
will  are  good.  W’^e  might,  then,  perhaps,  be  entitled  to  infer 
that  in  a few  instances,  where  it  was  not  obvious  whether  a 
thing  was  good  or  not  but  was  obvious  that  it  was  willed  in 
the  way  required,  the  thing  was  really  good,  since  it  had  the 
property  which  in  all  other  instances  we  had  found  to  be 
accompanied  by  goodness.  A reference  to  will  might  thus, 
just  conceivably,  become  of  use  towards  the  end  of  our  ethical 
investigations,  when  we  had  already  been  able  to  shew,  in- 
dependently, of  a vast  number  of  different  objects  that  they 
were  really  good  and  in  what  degree  they  were  so.  And  against 
even  this  conceivable  utility  it  may  be  urged  (1)  That  it  is 
impossible  to  see  why  it  should  not  be  as  easy  (and  it  would 
certainly  be  the  more  secure  way)  to  prove  that  the  thing 
in  question  was  good,  by  the  same  methods  which  we  had  used 
in  proving  that  other  things  were  good,  as  by  reference  to  our 
criterion ; and  (2)  That,  if  we  set  ourselves  seriously  to  find 
out  what  things  are  good,  we  shall  see  reason  to  think  (as 


138 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


[chap. 


will  appear  in  Chapter  VI.)  that  they  have  no  other  property, 
both  common  and  peculiar  to  them,  beside  their  goodness — 
that,  in  fact,  there  is  no  criterion  of  goodness. 

84.  But  to  consider  whether  any  form  of  will  is  or  is  not 
a criterion  of  goodness  is  quite  unnecessary  for  our  purpose 
here ; since  none  of  those  writers  who  profess  to  base  their 
Ethics  on  an  investigation  of  will  have  ever  recognised  the  need 
of  proving  directly  and  independently  that  all  the  things  which 
are  willed  in  a certain  way  are  good.  They  make  no  attempt 
to  shew  that  will  is  a criterion  of  goodness ; and  no  stronger 
evidence  could  be  given  that  they  do  not  recognise  that  this, 
at  most,  is  all  it  can  be.  As  has  been  just  pointed  out,  if  we 
are  to  maintain  that  whatever  is  willed  in  a certain  way  is  also 
good,  we  must  in  the  first  place  be  able  to  shew  that  certain 
things  have  one  property  ‘ goodness,’  and  that  the  same  things 
also  have  the  other  property  that  they  are  willed  in  a certain  way. 
And  secondly  we  must  be  able  to  shew  this  in  a very  large 
number  of  instances,  if  we  are  to  be  entitled  to  claim  any  assent 
for  the  proposition  that  these  two  properties  always  accompany 
one  another : even  when  this  was  shewn  it  would  still  be 
doubtful  whether  the  inference  from  ‘generally’  to  ‘always’ 
would  be  valid,  and  almost  certain  that  this  doubtful  principle 
would  be  useless.  But  the  very  question  which  it  is  the 
business  of  Ethics  to  answer  is  this  question  what  things  are 
good ; and,  so  long  as  Hedonism  retains  its  present  popularity, 
it  must  be  admitted  that  it  is  a question  upon  which  there 
is  scarcely  any  agreement  and  which  therefore  requires  the 
most  careful  examination.  The  greatest  and  most  difficult  part 
of  the  business  of  Ethics  would  therefore  require  to  have  been 
already  accomplished  before  we  could  be  entitled  to  claim  that 
anything  was  a criterion  of  goodness.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
to  be  willed  in  a certain  way  was  identical  with  being  good, 
then  indeed  we  should  be  entitled  to  start  our  ethical  investiga- 
tions by  enquiring  what  was  willed  in  the  way  required.  That 
this  is  the  way  in  which  metaphysical  writers  start  their  in- 
vestigations seems  to  shew  conclusively  that  they  are  influenced 
by  the  idea  that  ‘goodness’  is  identical  with  ‘being  willed.’ 
They  do  not  recognise  that  the  question  ‘ What  is  good  ? ’ is 


IV] 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


139 


a different  one  from  the  question  ‘What  is  willed  in  a certain 
way?  ’ Thus  we  find  Green  explicitly  stating  that  'the  common 
characteristic  of  the  good  is  that  it  satisfies  some  desire^.’  If 
we  are  to  take  this  statement  strictly,  it  obviously  asserts  that 
good  things  have  no  characteristic  in  common,  except  that  they 
satisfy  some  desire — not  even,  therefore,  that  they  are  good. 
And  this  can  be  only  the  case,  if  being  good  is  identical  with 
satisfying  desire:  if  ‘good’  is  merely  another  name  for  ‘desire- 
satisfying.  ’ There  could  be  no  plainer  instance  of  the  natural- 
istic fallacy.  And  we  cannot  take  the  statement  as  a mere 
verbal  slip,  which  does  not  affect  the  validity  of  Green’s  main 
argument.  For  he  nowhere  either  gives  or  pretends  to  give 
any  reason  for  believing  anything  to  be  good  in  any  sense, 
except  that  it  is  what  would  satisfy  a particular  kind  of  desire 
— the  kind  of  desire  which  he  tries  to  shew  to  be  that  of  a 
moral  agent.  An  unhappy  alternative  is  before  us.  Such 
reasoning  would  give  valid  reasons  for  his  conclusions,  if,  and 
only  if,  being  good  and  being  desired  in  a particular  way  were 
identical:  and  in  this  case,  as  we  have  seen  in  Chapter  I.,  his 
conclusions  would  not  be  ethical.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the 
two  are  not  identical,  his  conclusions  may  be  ethical  and  may 
even  be  right,  but  he  has  not  given  us  a single  reason  for 
believing  them.  The  thing  which  a scientific  Ethics  is  required 
to  shew,  namely  that  certain  things  are  reaUy  good,  he  has 
assumed  to  begin  with,  in  assuming  that  things  which  are 
willed  in  a certain  way  are  always  good.  We  may,  therefore, 
have  as  much  respect  for  Green’s  conclusions  as  for  those  of  any 
other  man  who  details  to  us  his  ethical  convictions:  but  that 
any  of  his  arguments  are  such  as  to  give  us  any  reason  for 
holding  that  Green’s  convictions  are  more  likely  to  be  true  than 
those  of  any  other  man,  must  be  clearly  denied.  The  Prolego- 
mena to  Ethics  is  quite  as  far  as  Mr  Spencer’s  Data  of  Ethics, 
from  making  the  smallest  contribution  to  the  solution  of  ethical 
problems. 

85.  The  main  object  of  this  chapter  has  been  to  shew  that 
Metaphysics,  understood  as  the  investigation  of  a supposed 
supersensible  reality,  can  have  no  logical  bearing  whatever  upon 
^ Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  p.  178. 


140 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


[chap. 


the  answer  to  the  fundamental  ethical  question  ‘ What  is  good 
in  itself?’  That  this  is  so,  follows  at  once  from  the  conclusion 
of  Chapter  I.,  that  ‘good’  denotes  an  ultimate,  unanalysable 
predicate ; but  this  truth  has  been  so  systematically  ignored, 
that  it  seemed  worth  while  to  discuss  and  distinguish,  in  detail, 
the  principal  relations,  which  do  hold,  or  have  been  supposed 
to  hold,  between  Metaphysics  and  Ethics.  With  this  view  I 
pointed  out : — (1)  That  Metaphysics  may  have  a bearing  on 
practical  Ethics — on  the  question  ‘ What  ought  we  to  do  ? ’ — 
so  far  as  it  may  be  able  to  tell  us  what  the  future  effects  of  our 
action  will  be : what  it  can  not  tell  us  is  whether  those  effects 
are  good  or  bad  in  themselves.  One  particular  type  of  meta- 
physical doctrine,  which  is  very  frequently  held,  undoubtedly 
has  such  a bearing  on  practical  Ethics : for,  if  it  is  true  that 
the  sole  reality  is  an  eternal,  immutable  Absolute,  then  it 
follows  that  no  actions  of  ours  can  have  any  real  effect,  and 
hence  that  no  practical  proposition  can  be  true.  The  same 
conclusion  follows  from  the  ethical  proposition,  commonly  com- 
bined with  this  metaphysical  one — namely  that  this  eternal 
Reality  is  also  the  sole  good  (68).  (2)  That  metaphysical 

writers,  as  where  they  fail  to  notice  the  contradiction  just 
noticed  between  any  practical  proposition  and  the  assertion 
that  an  eternal  reality  is  the  sole  good,  seem  frequently  to 
confuse  the  proposition  that  one  particular  existing  thing  is 
good,  with  the  proposition  that  the  existence  of  that  kind 
of  thing  would  be  good,  wherever  it  might  occur.  To  the 
proof  of  the  former  proposition  Metaphysics  might  be  relevant, 
by  shewing  that  the  thing  existed ; to  the  proof  of  the  latter 
it  is  wholly  irrelevant : it  can  only  serve  the  psychological 
function  of  suggesting  things  which  may  be  valuable — a func- 
tion which  would  be  still  better  performed  by  pure  fiction 
(69—71). 

But  the  most  important  source  of  the  supposition  that 
Metaphysics  is  relevant  to  Ethics,  seems  to  be  the  assumption 
that  ‘ good  ’ must  denote  some  real  property  of  things — an 
assumption  which  is  mainly  due  to  two  erroneous  doctrines,  the 
first  logical,  the  second  epistemological.  Hence  (3)  I discussed 
the  logical  doctrine  that  all  propositions  assert  a relation 


IV] 


METAPHYSICAL  ETHICS 


141 


between  existents;  and  pointed  out  that  the  assimilation  of 
ethical  propositions  either  to  natural  laws  or  to  commands 
are  instances  of  this  logical  fallacy  (72 — 76).  And  finally 
(4)  I discussed  the  epistemological  doctrine  that  to  be  good  is 
equivalent  to  being  willed  or  felt  in  some  particular  way ; a 
doctrine  which  derives  support  from  the  analogous  error,  which 
Kant  regarded  as  the  cardinal  point  of  his  system  and  which 
has  received  immensely  wide  acceptance — the  erroneous  view 
that  to  be  ‘ true  ’ or  ‘ real  ’ is  equivalent  to  being  thought  in 
a particular  way.  In  this  discussion  the  main  points  to  which 
I desire  to  direct  attention  are  these:  (a)  That  Volition  and 
Feeling  are  not  analogous  to  Cognition  in  the  manner  assumed; 
since  in  so  far  as  these  words  denote  an  attitude  of  the  mind 
towards  an  object,  they  are  themselves  merely  instances  of 
Cognition:  they  differ  only  in  respect  of  the  kind  of  object 
of  which  they  take  cognisance,  and  in  respect  of  the  other 
mental  accompaniments  of  such  cognitions:  (6)  That  universally 
the  object  of  a cognition  must  be  distinguished  from  the  cog- 
nition of  which  it  is  the  object;  and  hence  that  in  no  case 
can  the  question  whether  the  object  is  true  be  identical  with 
the  question  how  it  is  cognised  or  whether  it  is  cognised  at  all : 
it  follows  that  even  if  the  proposition  ‘ This  is  good  ’ were 
always  the  object  of  certain  kinds  of  will  or  feeling,  the  truth 
of  that  proposition  could  in  no  case  be  established  by  proving 
that  it  was  their  object;  far  less  can  that  proposition  itself  be 
identical  with  the  proposition  that  its  subject  is  the  object  of  a 
volition  or  a feeling  (77 — 84). 


CHAPTEE  y. 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT. 

86.  In  the  present  chapter  we  have  again  to  take  a great 
step  in  ethical  method.  My  discussion  hitherto  has  fallen 
under  two  main  heads.  Under  the  first,  I tried  to  shew  what 
‘good’ — the  adjective  ‘good’ — means.  This  appeared  to  be 
the  first  point  to  be  settled  in  any  treatment  of  Ethics,  that 
should  aim  at  being  systematic.  It  is  necessary  we  should 
know  this,  should  know  what  good  means,  before  we  can  go  on 
to  consider  what  is  good — what  things  or  qualities  are  good. 
It  is  necessary  we  should  know  it  for  two  reasons.  The  first 
reason  is  that  ‘ good  ’ is  the  notion  upon  which  all  Ethics 
depends.  We  cannot  hope  to  understand  what  we  mean,  when 
we  say  that  this  is  good  or  that  is  good,  until  we  understand 
quite  clearly,  not  only  what  ‘ this  ’ is  or  ‘ that  ’ is  (which  the 
natural  sciences  and  philosophy  can  tell  us)  but  also  what  is 
meant  by  calling  them  good,  a matter  which  is  reserved  for 
Ethics  only.  Unless  we  are  quite  clear  on  this  point,  our 
ethical  reasoning  will  be  always  apt  to  be  fallacious.  We  shall 
think  that  we  are  proving  that  a thing  is  ‘good,’  when  we  are 
really  only  proving  that  it  is  something  else ; since  unless  we 
know  what  ‘good’  means,  unless  we  know  what  is  meant  by 
that  notion  in  itself,  as  distinct  from  what  is  meant  by  any 
other  notion,  we  shall  not  be  able  to  tell  when  we  are  dealing 
with  it  and  when  we  are  dealing  with  something  else,  which  is 
perhaps  like  it,  but  yet  not  the  same.  And  the  second  reason 
why  we  should  settle  first  of  all  this  question  ‘ What  good 
means?’  is  a reason  of  method.  It  is  this,  that  we  can  never 


CHAP.  V]  ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT  14<3 

know  on  what  evidence  an  ethical  proposition  rests,  until  we 
know  the  nature  of  the  notion  which  makes  the  proposition 
ethical.  We  cannot  tell  what  is  possible,  by  way  of  proof, 
in  favour  of  one  judgment  that  ‘This  or  that  is  good,’  or  against 
another  judgment  ‘That  this  or  that  is  bad,’  until  we  have 
recognised  what  the  nature  of  such  propositions  must  always 
be.  In  fact,  it  follows  from  the  meaning  of  good  and  bad,  that 
such  propositions  are  all  of  them,  in  Kant’s  phrase,  ‘synthetic’: 
they  all  must  rest  in  the  end  upon  some  proposition  which 
must  be  simply  accepted  or  rejected,  which  cannot  be  logically 
deduced  from  any  other  proposition.  This  result,  which  follows 
from  our  first  investigation,  may  be  otherwise  expressed  by 
saying  that  the  fundamental  principles  of  Ethics  must  be  self- 
evident.  But  I am  anxious  that  this  expression  should  not  be 
misunderstood.  The  expression  ‘self-evident’  means  properly 
that  the  proposition  so  called  is  evident  or  true,  hy  itself  alone ; 
that  it  is  not  an  inference  from  some  proposition  other  than 
itself.  The  expression  does  not  mean  that  the  proposition  is 
true,  because  it  is  evident  to  you  or  me  or  all  mankind,  because 
in  other  words  it  appears  to  us  to  be  true.  That  a proposition 
appears  to  be  true  can  never  be  a valid  argument  that  true  it 
really  is.  By  saying  that  a proposition  is  self-evident,  we  mean 
emphatically  that  its  appearing  so  to  us,  is  not  the  reason  why 
it  is  true;  for  we  mean  that  it  has  absolutely  no  reason.  It 
would  not  be  a self-evident  proposition,  if  we  could  say  of  it : 
I cannot  think  otherwise  and  therefore  it  is  true.  For  then  its 
evidence  or  proof  would  not  lie  in  itself,  but  in  something  else, 
namely  our  conviction  of  it.  That  it  appears  true  to  us  may 
indeed  be  the  cause  of  our  asserting  it,  or  the  reason  why  we 
think  and  say  that  it  is  true : but  a reason  in  this  sense  is 
something  utterly  different  from  a logical  reason,  or  reason  why 
something  is  true.  Moreover,  it  is  obviously  not  a reason  of 
the  same  thing.  The  evidence  of  a proposition  to  us  is  only 
a reason  for  our  holding  it  to  be  true : whereas  a logical  reason, 
or  reason  in  the  sense  in  which  self-evident  propositions  have 
no  reason,  is  a reason  why  the  proposition  itself  must  be  true, 
not  why  we  hold  it  so  to  be.  Again  that  a proposition  is 
evident  to  us  may  not  only  be  the  reason  why  we  do  think  or 


144  ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT  [CHAP. 

affirm  it,  it  may  even  be  a reason  why  we  ought  to  think  it  or 
affirm  it.  But  a reason,  in  this  sense  too,  is  not  a logical 
reason  for  the  truth  of  the  proposition,  though  it  is  a logical 
reason  for  the  rightness  of  holding  the  proposition.  In  our 
common  language,  however,  these  three  meanings  of  ‘reason’ 
are  constantly  confused,  whenever  we  say  ‘ I have  a reason 
for  thinking  that  true.’  But  it  is  absolutely  essential,  if  we  are 
to  get  clear  notions  about  Ethics  or,  indeed,  about  any  other, 
especially  any  philosophical,  study,  that  we  should  distinguish 
them.  When,  therefore,  I talk  of  Intuitionistic  Hedonism, 
I must  not  be  understood  to  imply  that  my  denial  that  ‘Pleasure 
is  the  only  good’  is  based  on  my  Intuition  of  its  falsehood.  My 
Intuition  of  its  falsehood  is  indeed  my  reason  for  holding  and 
declaring  it  untrue ; it  is  indeed  the  only  valid  reason  for  so 
doing.  But  that  is  just  because  there  is  no  logical  reason  for 
it;  because  there  is  no  proper  evidence  or  reason  of  its  false- 
hood except  itself  alone.  It  is  untrue,  because  it  is  untrue,  and 
there  is  no  other  reason ; but  I declare  it  untrue,  because  its 
untruth  is  evident  to  me,  and  I liold  that  that  is  a sufficient 
reason  for  my  assertion.  We  must  not  therefore  look  on 
Intuition,  as  if  it  were  an  alternative  to  reasoning.  Nothing 
whatever  can  take  the  place  of  reasons  for  the  truth  of  any 
proposition : intuition  can  only  furnish  a reason  for  holding  any 
proposition  to  be  true:  this  however  it  must  do  when  any  pro- 
position is  self-evident,  when,  in  fact,  there  are  no  reasons 
which  prove  its  truth. 

87.  So  much,  then,  for  the  first  step  in  our  ethical  method, 
the  step  which  established  that  good  is  good  and  nothing  else 
whatever,  and  that  Naturalism  was  a fallacy.  A second  step 
was  taken  when  we  began  to  consider  proposed  self-evident 
principles  of  Ethics.  In  this  second  division,  resting  on  our 
result  that  good  means  good,  we  began  the  discussion  of  pro- 
positions asserting  that  such  and  such  a thing  or  quality  or 
concept  was  good.  Of  such  a kinri  was  the  principle  of  In- 
tuitionistic or  Ethical  Hedonism — the  principle  that  ‘ Pleasure 
alone  is  good.’  Following  the  method  established  by  our  first 
discussion,  I claimed  that  the  untruth  of  this  proposition  was 
self-evident.  I could  do  nothing  to  prove  that  it  was  untrue; 


V] 


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145 


I could  only  point  out  as  clearly  as  possible  what  it  means,  and 
how  it  contradicts  other  propositions  which  appear  to  be  equally 
true.  My  only  object  in  all  this  was,  necessarily,  to  convince. 
But  even  if  I did  convince,  that  does  not  prove  that  we  are 
right.  It  justifies  us  in  holding  that  we  are  so;  but  neverthe- 
less we  may  be  wrong.  On  one  thing,  however,  we  may  justly 
pride  ourselves.  It  is  that  we  have  had  a better  chance  of 
answering  our  question  rightly,  than  Bentham  or  Mill  or 
Sidgwick  or  others  who  have  contradicted  us.  For  we  have 
proved  that  these  have  never  even  asked  themselves  the  question 
which  they  professed  to  answer.  They  have  confused  it  with 
another  question:  small  wonder,  therefore,  if  their  answer  is 
different  from  ours.  We  must  be  quite  sure  that  the  same 
question  has  been  put,  before  we  trouble  ourselves  at  the 
diflerent  answers  that  are  given  to  it.  For  all  we  know,  the 
whole  world  would  agree  with  us,  if  they  could  once  clearly 
understand  the  question  upon  which  we  want  their  votes. 
Certain  it  is,  that  in  all  those  cases  where  we  found  a difference 
of  opinion,  we  found  also  that  the  question  had  not  been  clearly 
understood.  Though,  therefore,  we  cannot  prove  that  we  are 
right,  yet  we  have  reason  to  believe  that  everybody,  unless  he 
is  mistaken  as  to  what  he  thinks,  will  think  the  same  as  we. 
It  is  as  with  a sum  in  mathematics.  If  we  find  a gross  and 
palpable  error  in  the  calculations,  we  are  not  surprised  or 
troubled  that  the  person  who  made  this  mistake  has  reached 
a different  result  from  ours.  We  think  he  will  admit  that  his 
result  is  wrong,  if  his  mistake  is  pointed  out  to  him.  For 
instance  if  a man  has  to  add  up  5 + 7 + 9,  we  should  not  wonder 
that  he  made  the  result  to  be  34,  if  he  started  by  making 
5 -t-  7 = 25.  And  so  in  Ethics,  if  we  find,  as  we  did,  that 
‘desirable’  is  confused  with  ‘desired,’  or  that  ‘end’  is  confused 
with  ‘means,’  we  need  not  be  disconcerted  that  those  who  have 
committed  these  mistakes  do  not  agree  with  us.  The  only 
difference  is  that  in  Ethics,  owing  to  the  intricacy  of  its  subject- 
matter,  it  is  far  more  difficult  to  persuade  anyone  either  that 
he  has  made  a mistake  or  that  that  mistake  affects  his  result. 

In  this  second  division  of  my  subject — the  division  which 
is  occupied  with  the  question,  ‘What  is  good  in  itself?’ — I have 


146  ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT  [CHAP. 

hitherto  only  tried  to  establish  one  definite  result,  and  that 
a negative  one:  namely  that  pleasure  is  not  the  sole  good. 
This  result,  if  true,  refutes  half,  or  more  than  half,  of  the  ethical 
theories  which  have  ever  been  held,  and  is,  therefore,  not  with- 
out importance.  It  will,  however,  be  necessary  presently  to 
deal  positively  with  the  question:  What  things  are  good  and  in 
what  degrees? 

88.  But  before  proceeding  to  this  discussion  I propose,  first, 
to  deal  with  the  third  kind  of  ethical  question — the  question: 
What  ought  we  to  do? 

The  answering  of  this  question  constitutes  the  third  great 
division  of  ethical  enquiry ; and  its  nature  was  briefly  explained 
in  Chap.  I.  (§§  15 — 17).  It  introduces  into  Ethics,  as  was  there 
pointed  out,  an  entirely  new  question — the  question  what  things 
are  related  as  causes  to  that  which  is  good'  in  itself ; and  this 
question  can  only  be  answered  by  an  entirely  new  method — 
the  method  of  empirical  investigation ; by  means  of  which 
causes  are  discovered  in  the  other  sciences.  To  ask  what  kind 
of  actions  we  ought  to  perform,  or  what  kind  of  conduct  is  right, 
is  to  ask  what  kind  of  effects  such  action  and  conduct  will  pro- 
duce. Not  a single  question  in  practical  Ethics  can  be  answered 
except  by  a causal  generalisation.  All  such  questions  do,  indeed, 
also  involve  an  ethical  judgment  proper — the  judgment  that 
certain  effects  are  better,  in  themselves,  than  others.  But  they 
do  assert  that  these  better  things  are  effects — are  causally 
connected  with  the  actions  in  question.  Every  judgment  in 
practical  Ethics  may  be  reduced  to  the  form:  This  is  a cause 
of  that  good  thing. 

89.  That  this  is  the  case,  that  the  questions.  What  is  right? 
what  is  my  duty?  what  ought  I to  do?  belong  exclusively  to 
this  third  branch  of  ethical  enquiry,  is  the  first  point  to  which 
I wish  to  call  attention.  All  moral  laws,  I wish  to  shew,  are 
merely  statements  that  certain  kinds  of  actions  will  have  good 
effects.  The  very  opposite  of  this  view  has  been  generally 
prevalent  in  Ethics.  ‘The  right’  and  ‘the  useful’  have  been 
supposed  to  be  at  least  capable  of  conflicting  with  one  another, 
and,  at  all  events,  to  be  essentially  distinct.  It  has  been 
characteristic  of  a certain  school  of  moralists,  as  of  moral 


V] 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


147 


common  sense,  to  declare  that  the  end  will  never  justify  the 
means.  What  I wish  first  to  point  out  is  that  ‘right’  does 
and  can  mean  nothing  but  ‘cause  of  a good  result,’  and  is  thus 
identical  with  ‘useful’;  whence  it  follows  that  the  end  always 
will  justify  the  means,  and  that  no  action  which  is  not  justified 
by  its  results  can  be  right.  That  there  may  be  a true  propo- 
sition, meant  to  be  conveyed  by  the  assertion  ‘The  end  will 
not  justify  the  means,’  I fully  admit:  but  that,  in  another 
sense,  and  a sense  far  more  fundamental  for  ethical  theory,  it 
is  utterly  false,  must  first  be  shewn. 

That  the  assertion  ‘I  am  morally  bound  to  perform  this 
action’  is  identical  with  the  assertion  ‘This  action  will  produce 
the  greatest  possible  amount  of  good  in  the  Universe’  has  already 
been  briefly  shewn  in  Chap  I.  (§  17);  but  it  is  important  to 
insist  that  this  fundamental  point  is  demonstrably  certain.  This 
may,  perhaps,  be  best  made  evident  in  the  following  way.  It 
is  plain  that  when  we  assert  that  a certain  action  is  our  absolute 
duty,  we  are  asserting  that  the  performance  of  that  action  at 
that  time  is  unique  in  respect  of  value.  But  no  dutiful  action 
can  possibly  have  unique  value  in  the  sense  that  it  is  the  sole 
thing  of  value  in  the  world;  since,  in  that  case,  erery  such  action 
would  be  the  sole  good  thing,  which  is  a manifest  contradiction. 
And  for  the  same  reason  its  value  cannot  be  unique  in  the  sense 
that  it  has  more  intrinsic  value  than  anything  else  in  the  world ; 
since  every  act  of  duty  would  then  be  the  best  thing  in  the 
world,  which  is  also  a contradiction.  It  can,  therefore,  be 
unique  only  in  the  sense  that  the  whole  world  will  be  better, 
if  it  be  performed,  than  if  any  possible  alternative  wei’e  taken. 
And  the  question  whether  this  is  so  cannot  possibly  depend 
solely  on  the  question  of  its  own  intrinsic  value.  For  any 
action  will  also  have  effects  different  from  those  of  any  other 
action;  and  if  any  of  these  have  intrinsic  value,  their  value 
is  exactly  as  relevant  to  the  total  goodness  of  the  Universe  as 
that  of  their  cause.  It  is,  in  fact,  evident  that,  however  valuable 
an  action  may  be  in  itself,  yet,  owing  to  its  existence,  the  sum 
of  good  in  the  Universe  may  conceivably  be  made  less  than  if 
some  other  action,  less  valuable  in  itself,  had  been  performed. 
But  to  say  that  this  is  the  case  is  to  say  that  it  would  have 


148 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


[chap. 


been  better  that  the  action  should  not  have  been  done;  and 
this  again  is  obviously  equivalent  to  the  statement  that  it 
ought  not  to  have  been  done— that  it  was  not  what  duty  re- 
quired. ‘Fiat  lustitia,  ruat  caelum’  can  only  be  justified  on 
the  ground  that  by  the  doing  of  justice  the  Universe  gains  more 
than  it  loses  by  the  falling  of  the  heavens.  It  is,  of  course, 
possible  that  this  is  the  case:  but,  at  all  events,  to  assert  that 
justice  is  a duty,  in  spite  of  such  consequences,  is  to  assert  that 
it  is  the  case. 

Our  ‘duty,’  therefore,  can  only  be  defined  as  that  action, 
which  will  cause  more  good  to  exist  in  the  Universe  than  any 
possible  alternative.  And  what  is  ‘right’  or  ‘morally  per- 
missible’ only  differs  from  this,  as  what  will  not  cause  less 
good  than  any  possible  alternative.  When,  therefore.  Ethics 
presumes  to  assert  that  certain  ways  of  acting  are  ‘duties’  it 
presumes  to  assert  that  to  act  in  those  ways  will  always  produce 
the  greatest  possible  sum  of  good.  If  we  are  told  that  to  ‘do 
no  murder’  is  a duty,  we  are  told  that  the  action,  whatever  it 
may  be,  which  is  called  murder,  will  under  no  circumstances 
cause  so  much  good  to  exist  in  the  Universe  as  its  avoidance. 

90.  But,  if  this  be  recognised,  several  most  important  con- 
sequences follow,  with  regard  to  the  relation  of  Ethics  to  conduct. 

(1)  It  is  plain  that  no  moral  law  is  self-evident,  as  has 
commonly  been  held  by  the  Intuitional  school  of  moralists. 
The  Intuitional  view  of  Ethics  consists  in  the  supposition  that 
certain  rules,  stating  that  certain  actions  are  always  to  be  done 
or  to  be  omitted,  may  be  taken  as  self-evident  premisses.  I have 
shewn  with  regard  to  judgments  of  what  is  good  in  itself,  that 
this  is  the  case;  no  reason  can  be  given  for  them.  But  it  is 
the  essence  of  Intuitionism  to  suppose  that  rules  of  action — state- 
ments not  of  what  ought  to  be,  but  of  what  we  ought  to  do — 
are  in  the  same  sense  intuitively  certain.  Plausibility  has  been 
lent  to  this  view  by  the  fact  that  we  do  undoubtedly  make 
immediate  judgments  that  certain  actions  are  obligatory  or 
wrong:  we  are  thus  often  intuitively  certain  of  our  duty,  in 
a psychological  sense.  But,  nevertheless,  these  judgments  are 
not  self-evident  and  cannot  be  taken  as  ethical  premisses, 
since,  as  has  now  been  shewn,  they  are  capable  of  being 


V] 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


149 


confirmed  or  refuted  by  an  investigation  of  causes  and  effects. 
It  is,  indeed,  possible  that  some  of  our  immediate  intuitions 
are  true ; but  since  what  we  intuit,  what  conscience  tells  us,  is 
that  certain  actions  will  always  produce  the  greatest  sum  of 
good  possible  under  the  circumstances,  it  is  plain  that  reasons 
can  be  given,  which  will  shew  the  deliverances  of  conscience  to 
be  true  or  false. 

91.  (2)  In  order  to  shew  that  any  action  is  a duty,  it  is 
necessary  to  know  both  what  are  the  other  conditions,  which 
will,  conjointly  with  it,  determine  its  effects;  to  know  exactly 
what  will  be  the  effects  of  these  conditions;  and  to  know  all 
the  events  which  will  be  in  any  way  affected  by  our  action 
throughout  an  infinite  future.  We  must  have  all  this  causal 
knowledge,  and  further  we  must  know  accurately  the  degree  of 
value  both  of  the  action  itself  and  of  all  these  effects ; and  must 
be  able  to  determine  how,  in  conjunction  with  the  other  things 
in  the  Universe,  they  will  affect  its  value  as  an  organic  whole. 
And  not  only  this : we  must  also  possess  all  this  knowledge 
with  regard  to  the  effects  of  every  possible  alternative;  and 
must  then  be  able  to  see  by  comparison  that  the  total  value 
due  to  the  existence  of  the  action  in  question  will  be  greater 
than  that  which  would  be  produced  by  any  of  these  alternatives. 
But  it  is  obvious  that  our  causal  knowledge  alone  is  far  too 
incomplete  for  us  ever  to  assure  ourselves  of  this  result. 
Accordingly  it  follows  that  we  never  have  any  reason  to  suppose 
that  an  action  is  our  duty;  we  can  never  be  sure  that  any 
action  will  produce  the  greatest  value  possible. 

Ethics,  therefore,  is  quite  unable  to  give  us  a list  of  duties : 
but  there  still  remains  a humbler  task  which  may  be  possible 
for  Practical  Ethics.  Although  we  cannot  hope  to  discover 
which,  in  a given  situation,  is  the  best  of  all  possible  alternative 
actions,  there  may  be  some  possibility  of  shewing  which  among 
the  alternatives,  likely  to  occur  to  any  one,  will  produce  the 
greatest  sum  of  good.  This  second  task  is  certainly  all  that 
Ethics  can  ever  have  accomplished : and  it  is  certainly  all  that 
it  has  ever  collected  materials  for  proving;  since  no  one  has 
ever  attempted  to  exhaust  the  possible  alternative  actions  in  any 
particular  case.  Ethical  philosopher’s  have  in  fact  confined  their 


150 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


[chap. 


attention  to  a very  limited  class  of  actions,  which  have  been 
selected  because  they  are  those  which  most  commonly  occur  to 
mankind  as  possible  alternatives.  With  regard  to  these  they 
may  possibly  have  shewn  that  one  alternative  is  better,  i.e. 
produces  a greater  total  of  value,  than  others.  But  it  seems 
desirable  to  insist,  that  though  they  have  represented  this  result 
as  a determination  of  duties,  it  can  never  really  have  been  so. 
For  the  term  duty  is  certainly  so  used  that,  if  we  are  subse- 
quently persuaded  that  any  possible  action  would  have  pro- 
duced more  good  than  the  one  we  adopted,  we  admit  that  we 
failed  to  do  our  duty.  It  will,  however,  be  a useful  task  if 
Ethics  can  determine  which  among  alternatives  likely  to  occur 
will  produce  the  greatest  total  value.  For,  though  this  alter- 
native cannot  be  proved  to  be  the  best  possible,  yet  it  may 
be  better  than  any  course  of  action  which  we  should  otherwise 
adopt. 

92.  A difficulty  in  distinguishing  this  task,  which  Ethics 
may  perhaps  undertake  with  some  hope  of  success,  from  the 
hopeless  task  of  finding  duties,  arises  from  an  ambiguity  in  the 
use  of  the  term  ‘ possible.’  An  action  may,  in  one  perfectly 
legitimate  sense,  be  said  to  be  ‘ impossible  ’ solely  because  the 
idea  of  doing  it  does  not  occur  to  us.  In  this  sense,  then,  the 
alternatives  which  do  actually  occur  to  a man  would  be  the 
only  possible  alternatives ; and  the  best  of  these  would  be  the 
best  possible  action  under  the  circumstances,  and  hence  would 
conform  to  our  definition  of  ‘ duty.’  But  when  we  talk  of  the 
best  possible  action  as  our  duty,  we  mean  by  the  term  any 
action  which  no  other  known  circumstance  would  prevent, 
provided  the  idea  of  it  occurred  to  us.  And  this  use  of  the 
term  is  in  accordance  wuth  popular  usage.  For  we  admit  that 
a man  may  fail  to  do  his  duty,  through  neglecting  to  think 
of  what  he  might  have  done.  Since,  therefore,  we  say  that 
he  might  have  done,  what  nevertheless  did  not  occur  to  him, 
it  is  plain  that  we  do  not  limit  his  possible  actions  to  those  of 
which  he  thinks.  It  might  be  urged,  with  more  plausibility, 
that  we  mean  by  a man’s  duty  only  the  best  of  those  actions 
of  which  he  might  have  thought.  And  it  is  true  that  we  do 
not  blame  any  man  very  severely  for  omitting  an  action  of 


V] 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


151 


which,  as  we  say,  ‘ he  could  not  be  expected  to  think.’  But 
even  here  it  is  plain  that  we  recognise  a distinction  between 
what  he  might  have  done  and  what  he  might  have  thought  of 
doing : we  regard  it  as  a pity  that  he  did  not  do  otherwise. 
And  ‘ duty  ’ is  certainly  used  in  such  a sense,  that  it  would  be 
a contradiction  in  terms  to  say  it  was  a pity  that  a man  did  his 
duty. 

We  must,  therefore,  distinguish  a possible  action  from  an 
action  of  which  it  is  possible  to  think.  By  the  former  we  mean 
an  action  which  no  known  cause  would  prevent,  provided  the 
idea  of  it  occurred  to  us : and  that  one  among  such  actions, 
which  will  produce  the  greatest  total  good,  is  what  we  mean  by 
duty.  Ethics  certainly  cannot  hope  to  discover  what  kind  of 
action  is  always  our  duty  in  this  sense.  It  may,  however,  hope 
to  decide  which  among  one  or  two  such  possible  actions  is  the 
best : and  those  which  it  has  chosen  to  consider  are,  as  a matter 
of  fact,  the  most  important  of  those  with  regard  to  which  men 
deliberate  whether  they  shall  or  shall  not  do  them.  A decision 
with  regard  to  these  may  therefore  be  easily  confounded  with 
a decision  with  regard  to  which  is  the  best  possible  action. 
But  it  is  to  be  noted  that  even  though  we  limit  ourselves  to 
considering  which  is  the  better  among  alternatives  likely  to  be 
thought  of,  the  fact  that  these  alternatives  might  be  thought 
of  is  not  included  is  what  we  mean  by  calling  them  possible 
alternatives.  Even  if  in  any  particular  case  it  was  impossible 
that  the  idea  of  them  should  have  occurred  to  a man,  the 
question  we  are  concerned  with  is,  which,  if  it  had  occurred, 
would  have  been  the  best  alternative  ? If  we  say  that  murder 
is  always  a worse  alternative,  we  mean  to  assert  that  it  is  so, 
even  where  it  was  impossible  for  the  murderer  to  think  of 
doing  anything  else. 

The  utmost,  then,  that  Practical  Ethics  can  hope  to  discover 
is  which,  among  a few  alternatives  possible  under  certain 
circumstances,  will,  on  the  whole,  produce  the  best  result. 
It  may  tell  us  which  is  the  best,  in  this  sense,  of  certain 
alternatives  about  which  we  are  likely  to  deliberate ; and  since 
we  may  also  know  that,  even  if  we  choose  none  of  these,  what 
we  shall,  in  that  case,  do  is  unlikely  to  be  as  good  as  one  of 


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[chap. 


them,  it  may  thus  tell  us  which  of  the  alternatives,  among 
which  we  can  choose,  it  is  best  to  choose.  If  it  could  do  this  it 
would  be  sufficient  for  practical  guidance. 

93.  But  (3)  it  is  plain  that  even  this  is  a task  of  immense 
difficulty.  It  is  difficult  to  see  how  we  can  establish  even  a 
probability  that  by  doing  one  thing  we  shall  obtain  a better 
total  result  than  by  doing  another.  I shall  merely  endeavour 
to  point  out  how  much  is  assumed,  when  we  assume  that  there 
is  such  a probability,  and  on  what  lines  it  seems  possible  that 
this  assumption  may  be  justified.  It  will  be  apparent  that  it 
has  never  yet  been  justified — that  no  sufficient  reason  has  ever 
yet  been  found  for  considering  one  action  more  right  or  more 
wrong  than  another. 

(a)  The  first  difficulty  in  the  way  of  establishing  a prob- 
ability that  one  course  of  action  will  give  a better  total  result 
than  another,  lies  in  the  fact  that  we  have  to  take  account 
of  the  effects  of  both  throughout  an  infinite  future.  We  have 
no  certainty  but  that,  if  we  do  one  action  now,  the  Universe 
will,  throughout  all  time,  differ  in  some  way  from  what  it 
would  have  been,  if  we  had  done  another;  and,  if  there  is 
such  a permanent  difference,  it  is  certainly  relevant  to  our 
calculation.  But  it  is  quite  certain  that  our  causal  knowledge 
is  utterly  insufficient  to  tell  us  what  different  effects  will 
probably  result  from  two  different  actions,  except  within  a 
comparatively  short  space  of  time ; we  can  certainly  only 
pretend  to  calculate  the  effects  of  actions  within  what  may 
be  called  an  ‘ immediate  ’ future.  No  one,  when  he  proceeds 
upon  what  he  considers  a rational  consideration  of  effects, 
would  guide  his  choice  by  any  forecast  that  went  beyond  a 
few  centuries  at  most ; and,  in  general,  we  consider  that  we 
have  acted  rationally,  if  we  think  we  have  secured  a balance 
of  good  within  a few  years  or  months  or  days.  Yet,  if  a 
choice  guided  by  such  considerations  is  to  be  rational,  we 
must  certainly  have  some  reason  to  believe  that  no  con- 
sequences of  our  action  in  a further  future  will  generally  be 
such  as  to  reverse  the  balance  of  good  that  is  probable  in 
the  future  which  we  can  foresee.  This  large  postulate  must 
be  made,  if  we  are  ever  to  assert  that  the  results  of  one 


V] 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


153 


action  will  be  even  probably  better  than  those  of  another. 
Our  utter  ignorance  of  the  far  future  gives  us  no  justification 
for  saying  that  it  is  even  probably  right  to  choose  the  greater 
good  within  the  region  over  which  a probable  forecast  may 
extend.  We  do,  then,  assume  that  it  is  improbable  that  effects, 
after  a certain  time,  will,  in  general,  be  such  as  to  reverse 
the  comparative  value  of  the  alternative  results  within  that 
time.  And  that  this  assumption  is  justified  must  be  shewn 
before  we  can  claim  to  have  given  any  reason  whatever  for 
acting  in  one  way  rather  than  in  another.  It  may,  perhaps, 
be  justified  by  some  such  considerations  as  the  following.  As 
we  proceed  further  and  further  from  the  time  at  which  alter- 
native actions  are  open  to  us,  the  events  of  which  either 
action  would  be  part  cause  become  increasingly  dependent 
on  those  other  circumstances,  which  are  the  same,  whichever 
action  we  adopt.  The  effects  of  any  individual  action  seem, 
after  a sufficient  space  of  time,  to  be  found  only  in  trifling 
modifications  spread  over  a very  wide  area,  whereas  its  im- 
mediate effects  consist  in  some  prominent  modification  of  a 
comparatively  narrow  area.  Since,  however,  most  of  the  things 
which  have  any  great  importance  for  good  or  evil  are  things 
of  this  prominent  kind,  there  may  be  a probability  that  after 
a certain  time  all  the  effects  of  any  particular  action  become 
so  nearly  indifferent,  that  any  difference  between  their  value 
and  that  of  the  effects  of  another  action,  is  very  unlikely  to 
outweigh  an  obvious  difference  in  the  value  of  the  immediate 
effects.  It  does  in  fact  appear  to  be  the  case  that,  in  most 
cases,  whatever  action  we  now  adopt,  ‘it  will  be  all  the  same 
a hundred  years  hence,’  so  far  as  the  existence  at  that  time 
of  anything  greatly  good  or  bad  is  concerned : and  this  might, 
perhaps,  be  shewn  to  be  true,  by  an  investigation  of  the  manner 
in  which  the  effects  of  any  particular  event  become  neutralised 
by  lapse  of  time.  Failing  such  a proof,  we  can  certainly  have 
no  rational  ground  for  asserting  that  one  of  two  alternatives 
is  even  probably  right  and  another  wrong.  If  any  of  our 
judgments  of  right  and  wrong  are  to  pretend  to  probability, 
we  must  have  reason  to  think  that  the  effects  of  our  actions 
in  the  far  future  will  not  have  value  sufficient  to  outweigh 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


154 


[chap. 


any  superiority  of  one  set  of  effects  over  another  in  the 
immediate  future. 

94.  (b)  We  must  assume,  then,  that  if  the  effects  of  one 

action  are  generally  better  than  those  of  another,  so  far  forward 
in  the  future  as  we  are  able  to  foresee  any  probable  difference 
in  their  effects  at  all,  then  the  total  effect  upon  the  Universe 
of  the  former  action  is  also  generally  better.  We  certainly 
cannot  hope  directly  to  compare  their  effects  except  within  a 
limited  future ; and  all  the  arguments,  which  have  ever  been 
used  in  Ethics,  and  upon  which  we  commonly  act  in  common 
life,  directed  to  shewing  that  one  course  is  superior  to  another, 
are  (apart  from  theological  dogmas)  confined  to  pointing  out 
such  probable  immediate  advantages.  The  question  remains 
then ; Can  we  lay  down  any  general  rules  to  the  effect  that 
one  among  a few  alternative  actions  will  generally  produce  a 
greater  total  of  good  in  the  immediate  future  ? 

It  is  important  to  insist  that  this  question,  limited  as  it 
is,  is  the  utmost,  to  which,  with  any  knowledge  we  have  at 
present  or  are  likely  to  have  for  a long  time  to  come.  Practical 
Ethics  can  hope  to  give  an  answer.  I have  already  pointed 
out  that  we  cannot  hope  to  discover  which  is  the  best  possible 
alternative  in  any  given  circumstances,  but  only  which,  among 
a few,  is  better  than  the  others.  And  I have  also  pointed  out 
that  there  is  certainly  no  more  than  a probability,  even  if  we 
are  entitled  to  assert  so  much,  that  what  is  better  in  regard 
to  its  immediate  effects  will  also  be  better  on  the  whole.  It 
now  remains  to  insist  that,  even  with  regard  to  these  immediate 
effects,  we  can  only  hope  to  discover  which,  among  a few 
alternatives,  will  generally  produce  the  greatest  balance  of 
good  in  the  immediate  future.  We  can  secure  no  title  to 
assert  that  obedience  to  such  commands  as  ‘Thou  shalt  not 
lie,’  or  even  ‘Thou  shalt  do  no  murder,’  is  universally  better 
than  the  alternatives  of  lying  and  murder.  Reasons  why  no 
more  than  a general  knowledge  is  possible  have  been  already 
given  in  Chap.  I.  (§  16) ; but  they  may  be  recapitulated  here. 
In  the  first  place,  of  the  effects,  which  principally  concern  us 
in  ethical  discussions,  as  having  intrinsic  value,  we  know  the 
causes  so  little,  that  we  can  scarcely  claim,  with  regard  to  any 


v]  ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT  155 

single  one,  to  have  obtained  even  a hypothetical  universal  law, 
such  as  has  been  obtained  in  the  exact  sciences.  We  cannot 
even  say:  If  this  action  is  performed,  under  exactly  these 
circumstances,  and  if  no  others  interfere,  this  important  effect, 
at  least,  will  always  be  produced.  But,  in  the  second  place, 
an  ethical  law  is  not  merely  hypothetical.  If  we  are  to  know 
that  it  will  always  be  better  to  act  in  a certain  way,  under 
certain  circumstances,  we  must  know  not  merely  what  effects 
such  actions  will  produce,  provided  no  other  circumstances 
interfere,  but  also  that  no  other  circumstances  will  interfere. 
And  this  it  is  obviously  impossible  to  know  with  more  than 
probability.  An  ethical  law  has  the  nature  not  of  a scientific 
law  but  of  a scientific  prediction : and  the  latter  is  always 
merely  probable,  although  the  probability  may  be  very  great. 
An  engineer  is  entitled  to  assert  that,  if  a bridge  be  built 
in  a certain  way,  it  will  probably  bear  certain  loads  for  a 
certain  time ; but  he  can  never  be  absolutely  certain  that  it 
has  been  built  in  the  way  required,  nor  that,  even  if  it  has, 
some  accident  will  not  intervene  to  falsify  his  prediction. 
With  any  ethical  law,  the  same  must  be  the  case ; it  can  be 
no  more  than  a generalisation : and  here,  owing  to  the  com- 
parative absence  of  accurate  hypothetical  knowledge,  on  which 
the  prediction  should  be  based,  the  probability  is  comparatively 
small.  But  finally,  for  an  ethical  generalisation,  we  require  to 
know  not  only  what  effects  will  be  produced,  but  also  what 
are  the  comparative  values  of  those  effects ; and  on  this 
question  too,  it  must  be  admitted,  considering  what  a prevalent 
opinion  Hedonism  has  been,  that  we  are  very  liable  to  be 
mistaken.  It  is  plain,  then,  that  we  are  not  soon  likely  to 
know  more  than  that  one  kind  of  action  will  generally  produce 
better  effects  than  another;  and  that  more  than  this  has 
certainly  never  been  proved.  In  no  two  cases  will  all  the 
effects  of  any  kind  of  action  be  precisely  the  same,  because 
in  each  case  some  of  the  circumstances  will  differ ; and  although 
the  effects,  that  are  important  for  good  or  evil,  may  be  generally 
the  same,  it  is  extremely  unlikely  that  they  will  always  be  so. 

95.  (c)  If,  now,  we  confine  ourselves  to  a search  for  actions 
which  are  generally  better  as  means  than  any  probable  alter- 


156 


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[chap. 


native,  it  seems  possible  to  establish  as  much  as  this  in  defence 
of  most  of  the  rules  most  universally  recognised  by  Common 
Sense.  I do  not  propose  to  enter  upon  this  defence  in  detail, 
but  merely  to  point  out  what  seem  to  be  the  chief  distinct 
principles  by  the  use  of  which  it  can  be  made. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  we  can  only  shew  that  one  action 
is  generally  better  than  another  as  a means,  provided  that 
certain  other  circumstances  are  given.  We  do,  as  a matter  of 
fact,  only  observe  its  good  effects  under  certain  circumstances , 
and  it  may  be  easily  seen  that  a sufficient  change  in  these 
would  render  doubtful  what  seem  the  most  universally  certain 
of  general  rules.  Thus,  the  general  disutility  of  murder  can 
only  be  proved,  provided  the  majority  of  the  human  race  will 
certainly  persist  in  existing.  In  order  to  prove  that  murder, 
if  it  were  so  universally  adopted  as  to  cause  the  speedy 
extermination  of  the  race,  would  not  be  good  as  a means, 
we  should  have  to  disprove  the  main  contention  of  pessimism — 
namely  that  the  existence  of  human  life  is  on  the  whole  an 
evil.  And  the  view  of  pessimism,  however  strongly  we  may 
be  convinced  of  its  truth  or  falsehood,  is  one  which  never 
has  been  either  proved  or  refuted  conclusively.  That  universal 
murder  would  not  be  a good  thing  at  this  moment  can  therefore 
not  be  proved.  But,  as  a matter  of  fact,  we  can  and  do  assume 
with  certainty  that,  even  if  a few  people  are  willing  to  murder, 
most  people  will  not  be  willing.  When,  therefore,  we  say  that 
murder  is  in  general  to  be  avoided,  we  only  mean  that  it  is 
so,  so  long  as  the  majority  of  mankind  will  certainly  not  agree 
to  it,  but  will  persist  in  living.  And  that,  under  these  circum- 
stances, it  is  generally  wrong  for  any  single  person  to  commit 
murder  seems  capable  of  proof.  For,  since  there  is  in  any 
case  no  hope  of  exterminating  the  race,  the  only  effects  which 
we  have  to  consider  are  those  which  the  action  will  have  upon 
the  increase  of  the  goods  and  the  diminution  of  the  evils  of 
human  life.  Where  the  best  is  not  attainable  (assuming 
extermination  to  be  the  best)  one  alternative  may  still  be 
better  than  another.  And,  apart  from  the  immediate  evils 
which  murder  generally  produces,  the  fact  that,  if  it  were  a 
common  practice,  the  feeling  of  insecurity,  thus  caused,  would 


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ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


157 


absorb  much  time,  which  might  be  spent  to  better  purpose, 
is  perhaps  conclusive  against  it.  So  long  as  men  desire  to  live 
as  strongly  as  they  do,  and  so  long  as  it  is  certain  that  they 
will  continue  to  do  so,  anything  which  hinders  them  from 
devoting  their  energy  to  the  attainment  of  positive  goods, 
seems  plainly  bad  as  a means.  And  the  general  practice  of 
murder,  falling  so  far  short  of  universality  as  it  certainly  must 
in  all  known  conditions  of  society,  seems  certainly  to  be  a 
hindrance  of  this  kind. 

A similar  defence  seems  possible  for  most  of  the  rules, 
most  universally  enforced  by  legal  sanctions,  such  as  respect 
of  property ; and  for  some  of  those  most  commonly  recognised 
by  Common  Sense,  such  as  industry,  temperance  and  the 
keeping  of  promises.  In  any  state  of  society  in  which  men 
have  that  intense  desire  for  property  of  some  sort,  which  seems 
to  be  universal,  the  common  legal  rules  for  the  protection  of 
property  must  serve  greatly  to  facilitate  the  best  possible 
expenditure  of  energy.  And  similarly : Industry  is  a means 
to  the  attainment  of  those  necessaries,  without  which  the 
further  attainment  of  any  great  positive  goods  is  impossible ; 
temperance  merely  enjoins  the  avoidance  of  those  excesses, 
which,  by  injuring  health,  would  prevent  a man  from  con- 
tributing as  much  as  possible  to  the  acquirement  of  these 
necessaries;  and  the  keeping  of  promises  greatly  facilitates 
cooperation  in  such  acquirement. 

Now  all  these  rules  seem  to  have  two  characteristics  to 
which  it  is  desirable  to  call  attention.  (1)  They  seem  all  to  be 
such  that,  in  any  known  state  of  society,  a general  observance 
of  them  would  be  good  as  a means.  The  conditions  upon  which 
their  utility  depends,  namely  the  tendency  to  preserve  and 
propagate  life  and  the  desire  of  property,  seem  to  be  so  uni- 
versal and  so  strong,  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  remove 
them ; and,  this  being  so,  we  can  say  that,  under  any  conditions 
which  could  actually  be  given,  the  general  observance  of  these 
rules  would  be  good  as  a means.  For,  while  there  seems  no 
reason  to  think  that  their  observance  ever  makes  a society  worse 
than  one  in  which  they  are  not  observed,  it  is  certainly  neces- 
sary as  a means  for  any  state  of  things  in  which  the  greatest 


158 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


[chap. 


possible  goods  can  be  attained.  And  (2)  these  rules,  since  they 
can  be  recommended  as  a means  to  that  which  is  itself  only 
a necessary  condition  for  the  existence  of  any  great  good,  can 
be  defended  independently  of  correct  views  upon  the  primary 
ethical  question  of  what  is  good  in  itself.  On  any  view  commonly 
taken,  it  seems  certain  that  the  preservation  of  civilised  society, 
which  these  rules  are  necessary  to  effect,  is  necessary  for  the 
existence,  in  any  great  degree,  of  anything  which  may  be  held 
to  be  good  in  itself. 

96.  But  not  by  any  means  all  the  rules  commonly  recog- 
nised combine  these  two  characteristics.  The  arguments  offered 
in  defence  of  Common  Sense  morality  very  often  presuppose 
the  existence  of  conditions,  which  cannot  be  fairly  assumed  to 
be  so  universally  necessary  as  the  tendency  to  continue  life  and 
to  desire  property.  Such  arguments,  accordingly,  only  prove 
the  utility  of  the  rule,  so  long  as  certain  conditions,  which  may 
alter,  remain  the  same:  it  cannot  be  claimed  of  the  rules  thus 
defended,  that  they  would  be  generally  good  as  means  in  every 
state  of  society : in  order  to  establish  this  universal  general 
utility,  it  would  be  necessary  to  arrive  at  a correct  view  of  what 
is  good  or  evil  in  itself.  This,  for  instance,  seems  to  be  the  case 
with  most  of  the  rules  comprehended  under  the  name  of  Chastity. 
These  rules  are  commonly  defended,  by  Utilitarian  writers  or 
writers  who  assume  as  their  end  the  conservation  of  society, 
with  arguments  which  presuppose  the  necessary  existence  of 
such  sentiments  as  conjugal  jealousy  and  paternal  affection. 
These  sentiments  are  no  doubt  sufficiently  strong  and  general 
to  make  the  defence  valid  for  many  conditions  of  society. 
But  it  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  a civilised  society  existing 
without  them ; and,  in  such  a case,  if  chastity  were  still  to  be 
defended,  it  would  be  necessary  to  establish  that  its  violation 
produced  evil  effects,  other  than  those  due  to  the  assumed 
tendency  of  such  violation  to  disintegrate  society.  Such  a de- 
fence may,  no  doubt,  be  made;  but  it  would  require  an  exami- 
nation into  the  primary  ethical  question  of  what  is  good  and 
bad  in  itself,  far  more  thorough  than  any  ethical  writer  has 
ever  offered  to  us.  Whether  this  be  so  in  this  particular  case 
or  not,  it  is  certain  that  a distinction,  not  commonly  recognised. 


V] 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


159 


should  be  made  between  those  rules,  of  which  the  social  utility 
depends  upon  the  existence  of  circumstances,  more  or  less  likely 
to  alter,  and  those  of  which  the  utility  seems  certain  under  all 
possible  conditions. 

97.  It  is  obvious  that  all  the  rules,  which  were  enumerated 
above  as  likely  to  be  useful  in  almost  any  state  of  society,  can 
also  be  defended  owing  to  results  which  they  produce  under 
conditions  which  exist  only  in  particular  states  of  society.  And 
it  should  be  noticed  that  we  are  entitled  to  reckon  among  these 
conditions  the  sanctions  of  legal  penalties,  of  social  disapproval, 
and  of  private  remorse,  where  these  exist.  These  sanctions  are, 
indeed,  commonly  treated  by  Ethics  only  as  motives  for  the 
doing  of  actions  of  which  the  utility  can  be  proved  inde- 
pendently of  the  existence  of  these  sanctions.  And  it  may 
be  admitted  that  sanctions  ought  not  to  be  attached  to  actions 
which  would  not  be  right  independently.  Nevertheless  it  is 
plain  that,  where  they  do  exist,  they  are  not  only  motives  but 
also  justifications  for  the  actions  in  question.  One  of  the  chief 
reasons  why  an  action  should  not  be  done  in  any  particular 
state  of  society  is  that  it  will  be  punished ; since  the  punish- 
ment is  in  general  itself  a greater  evil  than  would  have  been 
caused  by  the  omission  of  the  action  punished.  Thus  the 
existence  of  a punishment  may  be  an  adequate  reason  for  re- 
garding an  action  as  generally  wrong,  even  though  it  has  no 
other  bad  effects  but  even  slightly  good  ones.  The  fact  that 
an  action  will  be  punished  is  a condition  of  exactly  the  same 
kind  as  others  of  more  or  less  permanence,  which  must  be  taken 
into  account  in  discussing  the  general  utility  or  disutility  of 
an  action  in  a particular  state  of  society. 

98.  It  is  plain,  then,  that  the  rules  commonly  recognised 
by  Common  Sense,  in  the  society  in  which  we  live,  and  commonly 
advocated  as  if  they  were  all  equally  and  universally  right  and 
good,  are  of  very  different  orders.  Even  those  which  seem  to 
be  most  universally  good  as  means,  can  only  be  shewn  to  he 
so,  because  of  the  existence  of  conditions,  which,  though  perhaps 
evils,  may  be  taken  to  be  necessary ; and  even  these  owe  their 
more  obvious  utilities  to  the  existence  of  other  conditions,  which 
cannot  be  taken  to  be  necessary  except  over  longer  or  shorter 


160 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


[chap. 


periods  of  history,  and  many  of  which  are  evils.  Others  seem 
to  be  justifiable  solely  by  the  existence  of  such  more  or  less 
temporary  conditions,  unless  we  abandon  the  attempt  to  shew 
that  they  are  means  to  that  preservation  of  society,  which  is 
itself  a mere  means,  and  are  able  to  establish  that  they  are 
directly  means  to  things  good  or  evil  in  themselves,  but  which 
are  not  commonly  recognised  to  be  such. 

If,  then,  we  ask  what  rules  are  or  would  be  useful  to  be 
observed  in  the  society  in  which  we  live,  it  seems  possible  to 
prove  a definite  utility  in  most  of  those  which  are  in  general 
both  recognised  and  practised.  But  a great  part  of  ordinary 
moral  exhortation  and  social  discussion  consists  in  the  advocat- 
ing of  rules,  which  are  not  generally  practised;  and  with  regard 
to  these  it  seems  very  doubtful  whether  a case  for  their  general 
utility  can  ever  be  conclusively  made  out.  Such  proposed  rules 
commonly  suffer  from  three  main  defects.  In  the  first  place, 
(1)  the  actions  which  they  advocate  are  very  commonly  such 
as  it  is  impossible  for  most  individuals  to  perform  by  any 
volition.  It  is  far  too  usual  to  find  classed  together  with 
actions,  which  can  be  performed,  if  only  they  be  willed,  others, 
of  which  the  possibility  depends  upon  the  possession  of  a peculiar 
disposition,  which  is  given  to  few  and  cannot  even  be  acquired. 
It  may,  no  doubt,  be  useful  to  point  out  that  those  who  have 
the  necessary  disposition  should  obey  these  rules ; and  it  would, 
in  many  cases,  be  desirable  that  everybody  should  have  this 
disposition.  But  it  should  be  recognised  that,  when  we  regard 
a thing  as  a moral  rule  or  law,  we  mean  that  it  is  one  which 
almost  everybody  can  observe  by  an  effort  of  volition,  in  that 
state  of  society  to  which  the  rule  is  supposed  to  apply.  (2)  Ac- 
tions are  often  advocated,  of  which,  though  they  themselves  are 
possible,  yet  the  proposed  good  effects  are  not  possible,  because 
the  conditions  necessary  for  their  existence  are  not  sufficiently 
general.  A rule,  of  which  the  observance  would  produce  good 
effects,  if  human  nature  were  in  other  respects  different  from 
what  it  is,  is  advocated  as  if  its  general  observance  would  pro- 
duce the  same  effects  now  and  at  once.  In  fact,  however,  by 
the  time  that  the  conditions  necessary  to  make  its  observance 
useful  have  arisen,  it  is  quite  as  likely  that  other  conditions. 


V] 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


161 


rendering  its  observance  unnecessary  or  positively  harmful,  may 
also  have  arisen ; and  yet  this  state  of  things  may  be  a better 
one  than  that  in  which  the  rule  in  question  would  have  been 
useful.  (3)  There  also  occurs  the  case  in  which  the  usefulness 
of  a rule  depends  upon  conditions  likely  to  change,  or  of  which 
the  change  would  be  as  easy  and  more  desirable  than  the  ob- 
servance of  the  proposed  rule.  It  may  even  happen  that  the 
general  observance  of  the  proposed  rule  would  itself  destroy 
the  conditions  upon  which  its  utility  depends. 

One  or  other  of  these  objections  seems  generally  to  apply 
to  proposed  changes  in  social  custom,  advocated  as  being  better 
rules  to  follow  than  those  now  actually  followed ; and,  for  this 
reason,  it  seems  doubtful  whether  Ethics  can  establish  the 
utility  of  any  rules  other  than  those  generally  practised.  But 
its  inability  to  do  so  is  fortunately  of  little  practical  moment. 
The  question  whether  the  general  observance  of  a rule  not 
generally  observed,  would  or  would  not  be  desirable,  cannot 
much  affect  the  question  how  any  individual  ought  to  act;  since, 
on  the  one  hand,  there  is  a large  probability  that  he  will  not, 
by  any  means,  be  able  to  bring  about  its  general  observance, 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  fact  that  its  general  observance 
would  be  useful  could,  in  any  case,  give  him  no  reason  to  con- 
clude that  he  himself  ought  to  observe  it  in  the  absence  of 
such  general  observance. 

With  regard,  then,  to  the  actions  commonly  classed  in  Ethics, 
as  duties,  crimes,  or  sins,  the  following  points  seem  deserving  of 
notice.  (1)  By  so  classing  them  we  mean  that  they  are  actions 
which  it  IS  possible  for  an  individual  to  perform  or  avoid,  if  he 
only  wills  to  do  so ; and  that  they  are  actions  which  everybody 
ought  to  perform  or  avoid,  when  occasion  arises.  (2)  We  can 
certainly  not  prove  of  any  such  action  that  it  ought  to  be  done 
or  avoided  under  all  circumstances ; we  can  only  prove  that  its 
performance  or  avoidance  will  genei'ally  produce  better  results 
than  the  alternative.  (3)  If  further  we  ask  of  what  actions  as 
much  as  this  can  be  proved,  it  seems  only  possible  to  prove  it 
with  regard  to  those  which  are  actually  generally  practised 
among  us.  And  of  these  some  only  are  such  that  their  general 
performance  would  be  useful  in  any  state  of  society  that  seems 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


162 


[chap. 


possible ; of  others  the  utility  depends  upon  conditions  which 
exist  now,  but  which  seem  to  be  more  or  less  alterable. 

99.  {d)  So  much,  then,  for  moral  rules  or  laws,  in  the 
ordinary  sense — rules  which  assert  that  it  is  generally  useful, 
under  more  or  less  common  circumstances,  for  everybody  to 
perform  or  omit  some  definite  kind  of  action.  It  remains  to 
say  something  with  regard  to  the  principles  by  which  the  indi- 
vidual should  decide  what  he  ought  to  do,  (a)  with  regard  to 
those  actions  as  to  which  some  general  rule  is  certainly  true, 
and  (/3)  with  regard  to  those  where  such  a certain  rule  is 
wanting. 

{a)  Since,  as  I have  tried  to  shew,  it  is  impossible  to 
establish  that  any  kind  of  action  will  produce  a better  total 
result  than  its  alternative  in  all  cases,  it  follows  that  in  some 
cases  the  neglect  of  an  established  rule  will  probably  be  the 
best  course  of  action  possible.  The  question  then  arises : Can 
the  individual  ever  be  justified  in  assuming  that  his  is  one  of 
these  exceptional  cases  ? And  it  seems  that  this  question  may 
be  definitely  answered  in  the  negative.  For,  if  it  is  certain  that 
in  a large  majority  of  cases  the  observance  of  a certain  rule  is 
useful,  it  follows  that  there  is  a large  probability  that  it  would 
be  wrong  to  break  the  rule  in  any  particular  case;  and  the 
uncertainty  of  our  knowledge  both  of  effects  and  of  their  value, 
in  particular  cases,  is  so  great,  that  it  seems  doubtful  whether 
the  individual’s  judgment  that  the  effects  will  probably  be  good 
in  his  case  can  ever  be  set  against  the  general  probability  that 
that  kind  of  action  is  wrong.  Added  to  this  general  ignorance 
is  the  fact  that,  if  the  question  arises  at  all,  our  judgment  will 
generally  be  biassed  by  the  fact  that  we  strongly  desire  one  of 
the  results  which  we  hope  to  obtain  by  breaking  the  rule.  It 
seems,  then,  that  with  regard  to  any  rule  which  is  generally 
useful,  we  may  assert  that  it  ought  always  to  be  observed,  not 
on  the  ground  that  in  every  particular  case  it  will  be  useful,  but 
on  the  ground  that  in  any  particular  case  the  probability  of  its 
being  so  is  greater  than  that  of  our  being  likely  to  decide  rightly 
that  we  have  before  us  an  instance  of  its  disutility.  In  short, 
though  we  may  be  sure  that  there  are  cases  where  the  rule 
should  be  broken,  we  can  never  kuow  which  those  cases  are, 


V] 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


163 


and  ought,  therefore,  never  to  break  it.  It  is  this  fact  which 
seems  to  justify  the  stringency  with  which  moral  rules  are 
usually  enforced  and  sanctioned,  and  to  give  a sense  in  which 
we  may  accept  as  true  the  maxims  that  ‘The  end  never  justifies 
the  means  ’ and  ‘ That  we  should  never  do  evil  that  good  may 
come.’  The  ‘ means  ’ and  the  ‘ evil,’  intended  by  these  maxims, 
are,  in  fact,  the  breaking  of  moral  rules  generally  recognised 
and  practised,  and  which,  therefore,  we  may  assume  to  be  gene- 
rally useful.  Thus  understood,  these  maxims  merely  point  out 
that,  in  any  particular  case,  although  we  cannot  clearly  perceive 
any  balance  of  good  produced  by  keeping  the  rule  and  do  seem 
to  see  one  that  would  follow  from  breaking  it,  nevertheless  the 
rule  should  be  observed.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  point  out 
that  this  is  so  only  because  it  is  certain  that,  in  general,  the 
end  does  justify  the  means  in  question,  and  that  therefore  there 
is  a probability  that  in  this  case  it  will  do  so  also,  although  we 
cannot  see  that  it  will. 

But  moreover  the  universal  observance  of  a rule  which  is 
generally  useful  has,  in  many  cases,  a special  utility,  which 
seems  deserving  of  notice.  This  arises  from  the  fact  that,  even 
if  we  can  clearly  discern  that  our  case  is  one  where  to  break  the 
rule  is  advantageous,  yet,  so  far  as  our  example  has  any  effect 
at  all  in  encouraging  similar  action,  it  will  certainly  tend  to 
encourage  breaches  of  the  rule  which  are  not  advantageous. 
We  may  confidently  assume  that  what  will  impress  the  imagi- 
nation of  others  will  not  be  the  circumstances  in  which  our  case 
differs  from  ordinary  cases  and  which  justify  our  exceptional 
action,  but  the  points  in  which  it  resembles  other  actions  that 
are  really  criminal.  In  cases,  then,  where  example  has  any 
influence  at  all,  the  effect  of  an  exceptional  right  action  will 
generally  be  to  encourage  wrong  ones.  And  this  effect  will 
probably  be  exercised  not  only  on  other  persons  but  on  the 
agent  himself.  For  it  is  impossible  for  any  one  to  keep  his 
intellect  and  sentiments  so  clear,  but  that,  if  he  has  once 
approved  of  a generally  wrong  action,  he  will  be  more  likely 
to  approve  of  it  also  under  other  circumstances  than  those 
which  justified  it  in  the  first  instance.  This  inability  to  dis- 
criminate exceptional  cases  offei’s,  of  course,  a still  stronger 


164 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


[chap. 


reason  for  the  univ^ersal  enforcement,  by  legal  or  social  sanctions, 
of  actions  generally  useful.  It  is  undoubtedly  well  to  punish 
a man,  who  has  done  an  action,  right  in  his  case  but  generally 
wrong,  even  if  his  example  would  not  be  likely  to  have  a dangerous 
effect.  For  sanctions  have,  in  general,  much  more  influence 
upon  conduct  than  example ; so  that  the  effect  of  relaxing 
them  in  an  exceptional  case  will  almost  certainly  be  an  en- 
couragement of  similar  action  in  cases  which  are  not  exceptional. 

The  individual  can  therefore  be  confidently  recommended 
always  to  conform  to  rules  which  are  both  generally  useful  and 
generally  practised.  In  the  case  of  rules  of  which  the  general  ob- 
servance would  be  useful  but  does  not  exist,  or  of  rules  which  are 
generally  practised  but  which  are  not  useful,  no  such  universal 
recommendations  can  be  made.  In  many  cases  the  sanctions 
attached  may  be  decisive  in  favour  of  conformity  to  the  existing 
custom.  But  it  seems  worth  pointing  out  that,  even  apart 
from  these,  the  general  utility  of  an  action  most  commonly 
depends  upon  the  fact  that  it  is  generally  practised : in  a society 
where  certain  kinds  of  theft  are  the  common  rule,  the  utility  of 
abstinence  from  such  theft  on  the  part  of  a single  individual 
becomes  exceedingly  doubtful,  even  though  the  common  rule  is 
a bad  one.  There  is,  therefore,  a strong  probability  in  favour  of 
adherence  to  an  existing  custom,  even  if  it  be  a bad  one.  But 
we  cannot,  in  this  case,  assert  with  any  confidence  that  this  pro- 
bability is  always  greater  than  that  of  the  individual’s  power 
to  judge  that  an  exception  will  be  useful ; since  we  are  here 
supposing  certain  one  relevant  fact — namely,  that  the  rule, 
which  he  proposes  to  follow,  would  be  better  than  that  which 
he  proposes  to  break,  if  it  were  generally  observed.  Con- 
sequently the  effect  of  his  example,  so  far  as  it  tends  to  break 
down  the  existing  custom,  will  here  be  for  the  good.  The  cases, 
where  another  rule  would  certainly  be  better  than  that  generally 
observed,  are,  however,  according  to  what  was  said  above,  very 
rare ; and  cases  of  doubt,  which  are  those  which  arise  most  fre- 
quently, carry  us  into  the  next  division  of  our  subject. 

100.  (/3)  This  next  division  consists  in  the  discussion  of 
the  method  by  which  an  individual  should  decide  what  to  do 
with  regard  to  possible  actions  of  which  the  general  utility 


V] 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


165 


cannot  be  proved.  And  it  should  be  observed,  that,  according 
to  our  previous  conclusions,  this  discussion  will  cover  almost  all 
actions,  except  those  which,  in  our  present  state  of  society,  are 
generally  practised.  For  it  has  been  urged  that  a proof  of 
general  utility  is  so  difficult,  that  it  can  hardly  be  conclusive 
except  in  a very  few  cases.  It  is  certainly  not  possible  with 
regard  to  all  actions  which  are  generally  practised;  though 
here,  if  the  sanctions  are  sufficiently  strong,  they  are  sufficient 
by  themselves  to  prove  the  general  utility  of  the  individual’s 
conformity  to  custom.  And  if  it  is  possible  to  prove  a general 
utility  in  the  case  of  some  actions,  not  generally  practised,  it 
is  certainly  not  possible  to  do  so  by  the  ordinary  method, 
which  tries  to  shew  in  them  a tendency  to  that  preservation 
of  society,  which  is  itself  a mere  means,  but  only  by  the 
method,  by  which  in  any  case,  as  will  be  urged,  the  individual 
ought  to  guide  his  judgment — namely,  by  shewing  their  direct 
tendency  to  produce  what  is  good  in  itself  or  to  prevent  what 
is  bad. 

The  extreme  improbability  that  any  general  rule  with 
regard  to  the  utility  of  an  action  will  be  correct  seems,  in 
fact,  to  be  the  chief  principle  which  should  be  taken  into 
account  in  discussing  how  the  individual  should  guide  his 
choice.  If  we  except  those  rules  which  are  both  generally 
practised  and  strongly  sanctioned  among  us,  there  seem  to 
be  hardly  any  of  such  a kind  that  equally  good  arguments 
cannot  be  found  both  for  and  against  them.  The  most  that 
can  be  said  for  the  contradictory  principles  which  are  urged 
by  moralists  of  different  schools  as  universal  duties,  is,  in 
general,  that  they  point  out  actions  which,  for  persons  of  a 
particular  character  and  in  particular  circumstances,  would  and 
do  lead  to  a balance  of  good.  It  is,  no  doubt,  possible  that 
the  particular  dispositions  and  circumstances  which  generally 
render  certain  kinds  of  action  advisable,  might  to  some  degree 
be  formulated.  But  it  is  certain  that  this  has  never  yet  been 
done ; and  it  is  important  to  notice  that,  even  if  it  were  done, 
it  would  not  give  us,  what  moral  laws  are  usually  supposed 
to  be — rules  which  it  would  be  desirable  for  every  one,  or 
even  for  most  people,  to  follow.  Moralists  commonly  assume 


7 


If 


166 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


[chap. 


that,  in  the  matter  of  actions  or  habits  of  action,  usually 
recognised  as  duties  or  virtues,  it  is  desirable  that  every  one 
should  be  alike.  Whereas  it  is  certain  that,  under  actual 
circumstances,  and  possible  that,  even  in  a much  more  ideal 
condition  of  things,  the  principle  of  division  of  labour,  according 
to  special  capacity,  which  is  recognised  in  respect  of  employ- 
ments, would  also  give  a better  result  in  respect  of  virtues. 

It  seems,  therefore,  that,  in  cases  of  doubt,  instead  of 
following  rules,  of  which  he  is  unable  to  see  the  good  effects 
in  his  particular  case,  the  individual  should  rather  guide  his 
choice  by  a direct  consideration  of  the  intrinsic  value  or 
vileness  of  the  effects  which  his  action  may  produce.  Judg- 
ments of  intrinsic  value  have  this  superiority  over  judgments 
of  means  that,  if  once  true,  they  are  always  true;  whereas 
what  is  a means  to  a good  effect  in  one  case,  will  not  be  so 
in  another.  For  this  reason  the  department  of  Ethics,  which 
it  would  be  most  useful  to  elaborate  for  practical  guidance, 
is  that  which  discusses  what  things  have  intrinsic  value  and 
in  what  degrees;  and  this  is  precisely  that  department  which 
has  been  most  uniformly  neglected,  in  favour  of  attempts  to 
formulate  rules  of  conduct. 

We  have,  however,  not  only  to  consider  the  relative  goodness 
of  different  effects,  but  also  the  relative  probability  of  their 
being  attained.  A less  good,  that  is  more  likely  to  be  attained, 
is  to  be  preferred  to  a greater,  that  is  less  probable,  if  the 
difference  in  probability  is  great  enough  to  outweigh  the 
difference  in  goodness.  And  this  fact  seems  to  entitle  us  to 
assert  the  general  truth  of  three  principles,  which  ordinary 
moral  rules  are  apt  to  neglect.  (1)  That  a lesser  good,  for 
which  any  individual  has  a strong  preference  (if  only  it  be  a 
good,  and  not  an  evil),  is  more  likely  to  be  a proper  object  for 
him  to  aim  at,  than  a greater  one,  which  he  is  unable  to 
appreciate.  For  natural  inclination  renders  it  immensely  more 
easy  to  attain  that  for  which  such  inclination  is  felt.  (2)  Since 
almost  every  one  has  a much  stronger  preference  for  things 
which  closely  concern  himself,  it  will  in  general  be  right  for 
a man  to  aim  rather  at  goods  affecting  himself  and  those  in 
whom  he  has  a strong  personal  interest,  than  to  attempt  a 


v]  ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT  167 

more  extended  beneficence.  Egoism  is  undoubtedly  superior 
to  Altruism  as  a doctrine  of  means:  in  the  immense  majority 
of  cases  the  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  aim  at  securing  some 
good  in  which  we  are  concerned,  since  for  that  very  reason 
we  are  far  more  likely  to  secure  it.  (3)  Goods,  which  can  be 
secured  in  a future  so  near  as  to  be  called  ‘the  present,’  are  in 
general  to  be  preferred  to  those  which,  being  in  a further 
future,  are,  for  that  reason,  far  less  certain  of  attainment.  If 
we  regard  aU  that  we  do  from  the  point  of  view  of  its  rightness, 
that  is  to  say  as  a mere  means  to  good,  we  are  apt  to  neglect 
one  fact,  at  least,  which  is  certain;  namely,  that  a thing  that 
is  really  good  in  itself,  if  it  exist  now,  has  precisely  the  same 
value  as  a thing  of  the  same  kind  which  may  be  caused  to 
exist  in  the  future.  Moreover  moral  rules,  as  has  been  said, 
are,  in  general,  not  directly  means  to  positive  goods  but  to 
what  is  necessary  for  the  existence  of  positive  goods;  and  so 
much  of  our  labour  must  in  any  case  be  devoted  to  securing 
the  continuance  of  what  is  thus  a mere  means — the  claims  of 
industry  and  attention  to  health  determine  the  employment 
of  so  large  a part  of  our  time,  that,  in  cases  where  choice  is 
open,  the  certain  attainment  of  a present  good  will  in  general 
have  the  strongest  claims  upon  us.  If  it  were  not  so,  the 
whole  of  life  would  be  spent  in  merely  assuring  its  continuance ; 
and,  so  far  as  the  same  rule  were  continued  in  the  future,  that 
for  the  sake  of  which  it  is  worth  having,  would  never  exist 
at  aU. 

101.  (4)  A fourth  conclusion,  which  follows  from  the  fact 

that  what  is  ‘right’  or  what  is  our  ‘duty’  must  in  any  case 
be  defined  as  what  is  a means  to  good,  is,  as  was  pointed  out 
above  (§  89),  that  the  common  distinction  between  these  and 
the  ‘expedient’  or  ‘useful,’  disappears.  Our  ‘duty’  is  merely 
that  which  will  be  a means  to  the  best  possible,  and  the 
expedient,  if  it  is  really  expedient,  must  be  just  the  same. 
We  cannot  distinguish  them  by  saying  that  the  former  is 
something  which  we  ought  to  do,  whereas  of  the  latter  we 
cannot  say  we  ‘ought'  In  short  the  two  concepts  are  not,  as 
is  commonly  assumed  by  all  except  Utilitarian  moralists,  simple 
concepts  ultimately  distinct.  There  is  no  such  distinction  in 

y-z 


168 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


[chap. 


Ethics.  The  only  fundamental  distinction  is  between  what  is 
good  in  itself  and  what  is  good  as  a means,  the  latter  of  which 
implies  the  former.  But  it  has  been  shewn  that  the  distinction 
between  ‘duty’  and  ‘expediency’  does  not  correspond  to  this: 
both  must  be  defined  as  means  to  good,  though  both  may  also 
be  ends  in  themselves.  The  question  remains,  then:  What  is 
the  distinction  between  duty  and  expediency? 

One  distinction  to  which  these  distinct  words  refer  is 
plain  enough.  Certain  classes  of  action  commonly  excite  the 
specifically  moral  sentiments,  whereas  other  classes  do  not. 
And  the  word  ‘duty’  is  commonly  applied  only  to  the  class 
of  actions  which  excite  moral  approval,  or  of  which  the  omission 
excites  moral  disapproval — especially  to  the  latter.  Why  this 
moral  sentiment  should  have  become  attached  to  some  kinds 
of  actions  and  not  to  others  is  a question  which  can  certainly 
not  yet  be  answered ; but  it  may  be  observed  that  we  have 
no  reason  to  think  that  the  actions  to  which  it  was  attached 
were  or  are,  in  all  cases,  such  as  aided  or  aid  the  survival  of 
a race:  it  was  probably  originally  attached  to  many  religious 
rites  and  ceremonies  which  had  not  the  smallest  utility  in 
this  respect.  It  appears,  however,  that,  among  us,  the  classes  of 
action  to  which  it  is  attached  also  have  two  other  characteristics 
in  enough  cases  to  have  influenced  the  meaning  of  the  words 
‘duty’  and  ‘expediency.’  One  of  these  is  that  ‘duties’  are, 
in  general,  actions  which  a considerable  number  of  individuals 
are  strongly  tempted  to  omit.  The  second  is  that  the  omission 
of  a ‘duty’  generally  entails  consequences  markedly  disagree- 
able to  some  one  else.  The  first  of  these  is  a more  universal 
characteristic  than  the  second:  since  the  disagreeable  effects 
on  other  people  of  the  ‘self-regarding  duties,’  prudence  and 
temperance,  are  not  so  marked  as  those  on  the  future  of  the 
agent  himself;  whereas  the  temptations  to  imprudence  and 
intemperance  are  very  strong.  Still,  on  the  whole,  the  class 
of  actions  called  duties  exhibit  both  characteristics:  they  are 
not  only  actions,  against  the  performance  of  which  there  are 
strong  natural  inclinations,  but  also  actions  of  which  the  most 
obvious  effects,  commonly  considered  goods,  are  effects  on  other 
people.  Expedient  actions,  on  the  other  hand,  are  actions  to 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


169 


which  strong  natural  inclinations  prompt  us  almost  universally, 
and  of  which  all  the  most  obvious  effects,  commonly  considered 
good,  are  effects  upon  the  agent.  We  may  then  roughly 
distinguish  ‘duties’  from  expedient  actions,  as  actions  with 
regard  to  which  there  is  a moral  sentiment,  which  we  are 
often  tempted  to  omit,  and  of  which  the  most  obvious  effects 
are  effects  upon  others  than  the  agent. 

But  it  is  to  be  noticed  that  none  of  these  characteristics, 
by  which  a ‘duty’  is  distinguished  from  an  expedient  action, 
gives  us  any  reason  to  infer  that  the  former  class  of  actions 
are  more  useful  than  the  latter — that  they  tend  to  produce  a 
greater  balance  of  good.  Nor,  when  we  ask  the  question,  ‘Is 
this  my  duty?’  do  we  mean  to  ask  whether  the  action  in 
question  has  these  characteristics : we  are  asking  simply 

whether  it  will  produce  the  best  possible  result  on  the  whole. 
And  if  we  asked  this  question  with  regard  to  expedient  actions, 
we  should  quite  as  often  have  to  answer  it  in  the  affirmative 
as  when  we  ask  it  with  regard  to  actions  which  have  the 
three  characteristics  of  ‘duties.’  It  is  true  that  when  we  ask 
the  question,  ‘Is  this  expedient?’  we  are  asking  a different 
question — namely,  whether  it  will  have  certain  kinds  of  effect, 
with  regard  to  which  we  do  not  enquire  whether  they  are  good 
or  not.  Nevertheless,  if  it  should  be  doubted  in  any  particular 
case  whether  these  effects  were  good,  this  doubt  is  understood 
as  throwing  doubt  upon  the  action’s  expediency:  if  we  are 
required  to  prove  an  action’s  expediency,  we  can  only  do 
so  by  asking  precisely  the  same  question  by  which  we  should 
prove  it  a duty — namely,  ‘Has  it  the  best  possible  effects  on 
the  whole?’ 

Accordingly  the  question  whether  an  action  is  a duty  or 
merely  expedient,  is  one  which  has  no  bearing  on  the  ethical 
question  whether  we  ought  to  do  it.  In  the  sense  in  which 
either  duty  or  expediency  are  taken  as  ultimate  reasons  for 
doing  an  action,  they  are  taken  in  exactly  the  same  sense: 
if  I ask  whether  an  action  is  really  my  duty  or  really  expedient, 
the  predicate  of  which  I question  the  applicability  to  the  action 
in  question  ls  precisely  the  same.  In  both  cases  I am  asking, 
‘Is  this  event  the  best  on  the  whole  that  I can  effect?’;  and 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


170 


[chap. 


whether  the  event  in  question  be  some  efifect  upon  what  is 
mine  (as  it  usually  is,  where  we  talk  of  expediency)  or  some 
other  event  (as  is  usual,  where  we  talk  of  duty),  this  distinction 
has  no  more  relevance  to  my  answer  than  the  distinction 
between  two  different  effects  on  me  or  two  different  effects  on 
others.  The  true  distinction  between  duties  and  expedient 
actions  is  not  that  the  former  are  actions  which  it  is  in  any 
sense  more  useful  or  obligatory  or  better  to  perform,  but  that 
they  are  actions  which  it  is  more  useful  to  praise  and  to  enforce 
by  sanctions,  since  they  are  actions  which  there  is  a temptation 
to  omit. 

102.  With  regard  to  ‘interested’  actions,  the  case  is  some- 
what different.  When  we  ask  the  question,  ‘ Is  this  really  to  my 
interest?’  we  appear  to  be  asking  exclusively  whether  its  effects 
upon  me  are  the  best  possible;  and  it  may  well  happen  that 
what  will  effect  me  in  the  manner,  which  is  really  the  best 
possible,  will  not  produce  the  best  possible  results  on  the  whole. 
Accordingly  my  true  interest  may  be  different  from  the  course 
which  is  really  expedient  and  dutiful.  To  assert  that  an  action 
is  ‘to  my  interest,’  is,  indeed,  as  was  pointed  out  in  Chap.  III. 
(§§  59 — 61),  to  assert  that  its  effects  are  really  good.  ‘My  own 
good’  only  denotes  some  event  affecting  me,  which  is  good 
absolutely  and  objectively;  it  is  the  thing,  and  not  its  goodness, 
which  is  mine',  everything  must  be  either  ‘a  part  of  universal 
good’  or  else  not  good  at  all;  there  is  no  third  alternative 
conception  ‘good  for  me.’  But  ‘my  interest,’  though  it  must  be 
something  truly  good,  is  only  one  among  possible  good  effects; 
and  hence,  by  effecting  it,  though  we  shall  be  doing  some  good, 
we  may  be  doing  less  good  on  the  whole,  than  if  we  had  acted 
otherwise.  Self-sacrifice  may  be  a real  duty;  just  as  the 
sacrifice  of  any  single  good,  whether  affecting  ourselves  or 
others,  may  be  necessary  in  order  to  obtain  a better  total  result. 
Hence  the  fact  that  an  action  is  really  to  my  interest,  can  never 
be  a sufficient  reason  for  doing  it:  by  shewing  that  it  is  not  a 
means  to  the  best  possible,  we  do  not  shew  that  it  is  not  to  my 
interest,  as  we  do  shew  that  it  is  not  expedient.  Nevertheless 
there  is  no  necessary  conflict  between  duty  and  interest : what 
is  to  my  interest  may  also  be  a means  to  the  best  possible. 


V] 


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171 


And  the  chief  distinction  conveyed  by  the  distinct  words  ‘duty’ 
and  ‘interest’  seems  to  be  not  this  source  of  possible  conflict, 
but  the  same  which  is  conveyed  by  the  contrast  between  ‘duty’ 
and  ‘expediency.’  By  ‘interested’  actions  are  mainly  meant 
those  which,  whether  a means  to  the  best  possible  or  not,  are 
such  as  have  their  most  obvious  effects  on  the  agent;  which  he 
generally  has  no  temptation  to  omit;  and  with  regard  to  which 
we  feel  no  moral  sentiment.  That  is  to  say,  the  distinction  is 
not  primarily  ethical.  Here  too  ‘duties’  are  not,  in  general, 
more  useful  or  obligatory  than  interested  actions;  they  are  only 
actions  which  it  is  more  useful  to  praise. 

103.  (5)  A fifth  conclusion,  of  some  importance,  in  relation 
to  Practical  Ethics  concerns  the  manner  in  which  ‘virtues’  are 
to  be  judged.  What  is  meant  by  calling  a thing  a ‘virtue’? 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Aristotle’s  definition  is  right,  in 
the  main,  so  far  as  he  says  that  it  is  an  ‘habitual  disposition’ 
to  perform  certain  actions:  this  is  one  of  the  marks  by  which 
we  should  distinguish  a virtue  from  other  things.  But  ‘virtue’ 
and  ‘vice’  are  also  ethical  terms:  that  is  to  say,  when  we  use 
them  seriously,  we  mean  to  convey  praise  by  the  one  and  dis- 
praise by  the  other.  And  to  praise  a thing  is  to  assert  either 
that  it  is  good  in  itself  or  else  that  it  is  a means  to  good.  Are 
we  then  to  include  in  our  definition  of  virtue  that  it  must  be  a 
thing  good  in  itself  ? 

Now  it  is  certain  that  virtues  are  commonly  regarded  as 
good  in  themselves.  The  feeling  of  moral  approbation  with 
which  we  generally  regard  them  partly  consists  in  an  attribution 
to  them  of  intrinsic  value.  Even  a Hedonist,  when  he  feels  a 
moral  sentiment  towards  them,  is  regarding  them  as  good-in- 
themselves;  and  Virtue  has  been  the  chief  competitor  with 
Pleasure  for  the  position  of  sole  good.  Nevertheless  I do  not 
think  we  can  regard  it  as  part  of  the  definition  of  virtue  that  it 
should  be  good  in  itself.  For  the  name  has  so  far  an  indepen- 
dent meaning,  that  if  in  any  particular  case  a disposition 
commonly  considered  virtuous  were  proved  not  to  be  good  in 
itself,  we  should  not  think  that  a sufficient  reason  for  saying 
that  it  was  not  a virtue  but  was  only  thought  to  be  so.  The  test 
for  the  ethical  connotation  of  virtue  is  the  same  as  that  for  duty: 


172 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


[chap. 


What  should  we  require  to  be  proved  about  a particular  instance, 
in  order  to  say  that  the  name  was  wrongly  applied  to  it?  And 
the  test  which  is  thus  applied  both  to  virtues  and  duties,  and 
considered  to  be  final,  is  the  question:  Is  it  a means  to  good? 
If  it  could  be  shewn  of  any  particular  disposition,  commonly 
considered  virtuous,  that  it  was  generally  harmful,  we  should 
at  once  say : Then  it  is  not  really  virtuous.  Accordingly  a 
virtue  may  be  defined  as  an  habitual  disposition  to  perform 
certain  actions,  which  generally  produce  the  best  possible 
results.  Nor  is  there  any  doubt  as  to  the  kind  of  actions 
which  it  is  ‘virtuous’  habitually  to  perform.  They  are,  in 
general,  those  which  are  duties,  with  this  modification  that 
we  also  include  those  which  would  be  duties,  if  only  it  were 
possible  for  people  in  general  to  perform  them.  Accordingly 
with  regard  to  virtues,  the  same  conclusion  holds  as  with 
regard  to  duties.  If  they  are  really  virtues  they  must  be 
generally  good  as  means;  nor  do  I wish  to  dispute  that  most 
virtues,  commonly  considered  as  such,  as  well  as  most  duties, 
really  are  means  to  good.  But  it  does  not  follow  that  they  are 
a bit  more  useful  than  those  dispositions  and  inclinations  which 
lead  us  to  perform  interested  actions.  As  duties  from  expedient 
actions,  so  virtues  are  distinguished  from  other  useful  disposi- 
tions, not  by  any  superior  utility,  but  by  the  fact  that  they  are 
dispositions,  which  it  is  particularly  useful  to  praise  and  to 
sanction,  because  there  are  strong  and  common  temptations 
to  neglect  the  actions  to  which  they  lead. 

Virtues,  therefore,  are  habitual  dispositions  to  perform 
actions  which  are  duties,  or  which  would  be  duties  if  a volition 
were  sufficient  on  the  part  of  most  men  to  ensure  their  perform- 
ance. And  duties  are  a particular  class  of  those  actions,  of 
which  the  performance  has,  at  least  generally,  better  total 
results  than  the  omission.  They  are,  that  is  to  say,  actions 
generally  good  as  means:  but  not  all  such  actions  are  duties; 
the  name  is  confined  to  that  particular  class  which  it  is  often 
difficult  to  perform,  because  there  are  strong  temptations  to 
the  contrary.  It  follows  that  in  order  to  decide  whether  any 
particular  disposition  or  action  is  a virtue  or  a duty,  we  must 
face  all  the  difficulties  enumerated  in  section  (3)  of  this  chapter. 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


173 


We  shall  not  be  entitled  to  assert  that  any  disposition  or  action 
is  a virtue  or  duty  except  as  a result  of  an  investigation,  such 
as  was  there  described.  We  must  be  able  to  prove  that  the 
disposition  or  action  in  question  is  generally  better  as  a means 
than  any  alternatives  possible  and  likely  to  occur ; and  this  we 
shall  only  be  able  to  prove  for  particular  states  of  society : what  is 
a virtue  or  a duty  in  one  state  of  society  may  not  be  so  in  another. 

104.  But  there  is  another  question  with  regard  to  virtues 
and  duties  which  must  be  settled  by  intuition  alone — by  the 
properly  guarded  method  which  was  explained  in  discussing 
Hedonism.  This  is  the  question  whether  the  dispositions  and 
actions,  commonly  regarded  (rightly  or  not)  as  virtues  or  duties, 
are  good  in  themselves;  whether  they  have  intrinsic  value. 
Virtue  or  the  exercise  of  virtue  has  very  commonly  been 
asserted  by  moralists  to  be  either  the  sole  good,  or,  at  least, 
the  best  of  goods.  Indeed,  so  far  as  moralists  have  discussed 
the  question  what  is  good  in  itself  at  all,  they  have  generally 
assumed  that  it  must  be  either  virtue  or  pleasure.  It  would 
hardly  have  been  possible  that  such  a gross  difference  of  opinion 
should  exist,  or  that  it  should  have  been  assumed  the  discussion 
must  be  limited  to  two  such  alternatives,  if  the  meaning  of  the 
question  had  been  clearly  apprehended.  And  we  have  already 
seen  that  the  meaning  of  the  question  has  hardly  ever  been 
clearly  apprehended.  Almost  all  ethical  writers  have  commit- 
ted the  naturalistic  fallacy — they  have  failed  to  perceive  that 
the  notion  of  intrinsic  value  is  simple  and  unique ; and  almost 
all  have  failed,  in  consequence,  to  distinguish  clearly  between 
means  and  end — they  have  discussed,  as  if  it  were  simple  and 
unambiguous,  the  question,  ‘ What  ought  we  to  do  ? ’ or  ‘ What 
ought  to  exist  now?’  without  distinguishing  whether  the  reason 
why  a thing  ought  to  be  done  or  to  exist  now,  is  that  it 
is  itself  possessed  of  intrinsic  value,  or  that  it  is  a means 
to  what  has  intrinsic  value.  We  shall,  therefore,  be  prepared 
to  find  that  virtue  has  as  little  claim  to  be  considered  the  sole 
or  chief  good  as  pleasure ; more  especially  after  seeing  that, 
so  far  as  definition  goes,  to  call  a thing  a virtue  is  merely  to 
declare  that  it  is  a means  to  good.  The  advocates  of  virtue 
have,  we  shall  see,  this  superiority  over  the  Hedonists,  that 


174 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


[chap. 


inasmuch  as  virtues  are  very  complex  mental  facts,  there  are 
included  in  them  many  things  which  are  good  in  themselves 
and  good  in  a much  higher  degree  than  pleasure.  The  advo- 
cates of  Hedonism,  on  the  other  hand,  have  the  superiority  that 
their  method  emphasizes  the  distinction  between  means  and 
ends ; although  they  have  not  apprehended  the  distinction 
clearly  enough  to  perceive  that  the  special  ethical  predicate, 
which  they  assign  to  pleasure  as  not  being  a mere  means,  must 
also  apply  to  many  other  things. 

105.  With  regard,  then,  to  the  intrinsic  value  of  virtue,  it 
may  be  stated  broadly:  (1)  that  the  majority  of  dispositions, 
which  we  call  by  that  name,  and  which  really  do  conform  to  the 
definition,  so  far  as  that  they  are  dispositions  generally  valuable 
as  means,  at  least  in  our  society,  have  no  intrinsic  value  what- 
ever ; and  (2)  that  no  one  element  which  is  contained  in  the 
minority,  nor  even  all  the  different  elements  put  together,  can 
without  gross  absurdity  be  regarded  as  the  sole  good.  As  to 
the  second  point  it  may  be  observed  that  even  those  who  hold 
the  view  that  the  sole  good  is  to  be  found  in  virtue,  almost 
invariably  hold  other  views  contradictory  of  this,  owing  chiefly 
to  a failure  to  analyse  the  meaning  of  ethical  concepts.  The 
most  marked  instance  of  this  inconsistency  is  to  be  found  in  the 
common  Christian  conception  that  virtue,  though  the  sole  good, 
can  yet  be  rewarded  by  something  other  than  virtue.  Heaven 
is  commonly  considered  as  the  reward  of  virtue ; and  yet  it  is 
also  commonly  considered,  that,  in  order  to  be  such  a reward,  it 
must  contain  some  element,  called  happiness,  which  is  certainly 
not  completely  identical  with  the  mere  exercise  of  those  virtues 
which  it  rewards.  But  if  so,  then  something  which  is  not 
virtue  must  be  either  good  in  itself  or  an  element  in  what  has 
most  intrinsic  value.  It  is  not  commonly  observed  that  if  a 
thing  is  really  to  be  a reward,  it  must  be  something  good  in 
itself:  it  is  absurd  to  talk  of  rewarding  a person  by  giving  him 
something,  which  is  less  valuable  than  what  he  already  has  or 
which  has  no  value  at  all.  Thus  Kant’s  view  that  virtue  renders 
us  worthy  of  happiness  is  in  flagrant  contradiction  with  the 
view,  which  he  implies  and  which  is  associated  with  his  name, 
that  a Good  Will  is  the  only  thing  having  intrinsic  value.  It 


V] 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


175 


does  not,  indeed,  entitle  us  to  make  the  charge  sometimes 
made,  that  Kant  is,  inconsistently,  an  Eudaemonist  or  Hedonist : 
for  it  does  not  imply  that  happiness  is  the  sole  good.  But  it 
does  imply  that  the  Good  Will  is  not  the  sole  good : that  a state 
of  things  in  which  we  are  both  virtuous  and  happy  is  better  in 
itself  than  one  in  which  the  happiness  is  absent. 

106.  In  order,  however,  justly  to  consider  the  claims  of 
virtue  to  intrinsic  value,  it  is  necessary  to  distinguish  several 
very  different  mental  states,  all  of  which  fall  under  the  general 
definition  that  they  are  habitual  dispositions  to  perform  duties. 
We  may  thus  distinguish  three  very  different  states,  all  of  which 
are  liable  to  be  confused  with  one  another,  upon  each  of  which 
different  moral  systems  have  laid  great  stress,  and  for  each  of 
which  the  claim  has  been  made  that  it  alone  constitutes  virtue, 
and,  by  implication,  that  it  is  the  sole  good.  We  may  first  of  all 
distinguish  between  (a)  that  permanent  characteristic  of  mind, 
which  consists  in  the  fact  that  the  performance  of  duty  has 
become  in  the  strict  sense  a habit,  like  many  of  the  operations 
performed  in  the  putting  on  of  clothes,  and  (6)  that  permanent 
characteristic,  which  consists  in  the  fact  that  what  may  be  called 
good  motives  habitually  help  to  cause  the  performance  of  duties. 
And  in  the  second  division  we  may  distinguish  between  the 
habitual  tendency  to  be  actuated  by  one  motive,  namely,  the 
desire  to  do  duty  for  duty’s  sake,  and  all  other  motives,  such  as 
love,  benevolence,  etc.  We  thus  get  the  three  kinds  of  virtue, 
of  which  we  are  now  to  consider  the  intrinsic  value. 

(a)  There  is  no  doubt  that  a man’s  character  may  be  such 
that  he  habitually  performs  certain  duties,  without  the  thought 
ever  occurring  to  him,  when  he  wills  them,  either  that  they  are 
duties  or  that  any  good  will  result  from  them.  Of  such  a man 
we  cannot  and  do  not  refuse  to  say  that  he  possesses  the  virtue 
consisting  in  the  disposition  to  perform  those  duties.  I,  for 
instance,  am  honest  in  the  sense  that  I habitually  abstain  from 
any  of  the  actions  legally  qualified  as  thieving,  even  where  some 
other  persons  would  be  strongly  tempted  to  commit  them.  It 
would  be  grossly  contrary  to  common  usage  to  deny  that, 
for  this  reason,  I really  have  the  virtue  of  honesty : it  is  quite 
certain  that  I have  an  habitual  disposition  to  perform  a duty. 


176 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


[chap. 


And  that  as  many  people  as  possible  should  have  a like  disposi- 
tion is,  no  doubt,  of  great  utility  : it  is  good  as  a means.  Yet  I 
may  safely  assert  that  neither  my  various  performances  of  this 
duty,  nor  my  disposition  to  perform  them,  have  the  smallest 
intrinsic  value.  It  is  because  the  majority  of  instances  of  virtue 
seem  to  be  of  this  nature,  that  we  may  venture  to  assert  that 
virtues  have,  in  general,  no  intrinsic  value  whatsoever.  And 
there  seems  good  reason  to  think  that  the  more  generally  they  are 
of  this  nature  the  more  useful  they  are ; since  a great  economy 
of  labour  is  effected  when  a useful  action  becomes  habitual  or 
instinctive.  But  to  maintain  that  a virtue,  which  includes  no 
more  than  this,  is  good  in  itself  is  a gross  absurdity.  And  of 
this  gross  absurdity,  it  may  be  observed,  the  Ethics  of  Aristotle 
is  guilty.  For  his  definition  of  virtue  does  not  exclude  a dispo- 
sition to  perform  actions  in  this  way,  whereas  his  descriptions 
of  the  particular  virtues  plainly  include  such  actions : that  an 
action,  in  order  to  exhibit  virtue,  must  be  done  roi>  koXov  ev€Ka 
is  a qualification  which  he  allows  often  to  drop  out  of  sight. 
And,  on  the  other  hand,  he  seems  certainly  to  regard  the  exer- 
cise of  all  virtues  as  an  end  in  itself.  His  treatment  of  Ethics 
is  indeed,  in  the  most  important  points,  highly  unsystematic  and 
confused,  owing  to  his  attempt  to  base  it  on  the  naturalistic 
fallacy ; for  strictly  we  should  be  obliged  by  his  words  to  regard 
Oecopia  as  the  only  thing  good  in  itself,  in  which  case  the  good- 
ness which  he  attributes  to  the  practical  virtues  cannot  be 
intrinsic  value ; while  on  the  other  hand  he  does  not  seem  to 
regard  it  merely  as  utility,  since  he  makes  no  attempt  to  shew 
that  they  are  means  to  detopLa.  But  there  seems  no  doubt  that 
on  the  whole  he  regards  the  exercise  of  the  practical  virtues  as 
a good  of  the  same  kind  as  {i.e.  having  intrinsic  value),  only  in 
a less  degree  than,  Becopia ; so  that  he  cannot  avoid  the  charge 
that  he  recommends  as  having  intrinsic  value,  such  instances  of 
the  exercise  of  virtue  as  we  are  at  present  discussing — instances 
of  a disposition  to  perform  actions  which,  in  the  modem  phrase, 
have  merely  an  ‘external  rightness.’  That  he  is  right  in  applying 
the  word  ‘virtue’  to  such  a disposition  cannot  be  doubted.  But 
the  protest  against  the  view  that  ‘external  rightness’  is  sufficient 
to  constitute  either  ‘ duty  ’ or  ‘ virtue  ’ — a protest  which  is 


V] 


ETHICS  m RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


177 


commonly,  and  with  some  justice,  attributed  as  a merit  to 
Christian  morals — seems,  in  the  main,  to  be  a mistaken  way  of 
pointing  out  an  important  truth:  namely,  that  where  there  is 
only  ‘external  rightness’  there  is  certainly  no  intrinsic  value. 
It  is  commonly  assumed  (though  wrongly)  that  to  call  a thing 
a virtue  means  that  it  has  intrinsic  value:  and  on  this 
assumption  the  view  that  virtue  does  not  consist  in  a mere 
disposition  to  do  externally  right  actions  does  really  constitute 
an  advance  in  ethical  truth  beyond  the  Ethics  of  Aristotle. 
The  inference  that,  if  virtue  includes  in  its  meaning  ‘good  in 
itself,’  then  Aristotle’s  definition  of  virtue  is  not  adequate  and 
expresses  a false  ethical  judgment,  is  perfectly  correct:  only  the 
premiss  that  virtue  does  include  this  in  its  meaning  is  mis- 
taken. 

107.  (b)  A man’s  character  may  be  such  that,  when  he 
habitually  performs  a particular  duty,  there  is,  in  each  case  of 
his  performance,  present  in  his  mind,  a love  of  some  intrinsically 
good  consequence  which  he  expects  to  produce  by  his  action  or 
a hatred  of  some  intrinsically  evil  consequence  which  he  hopes  to 
prevent  by  it.  In  such  a case  this  love  or  hatred  will  generally 
be  part  cause  of  his  action,  and  we  maj  then  call  it  one  of  his 
motives.  Where  such  a feeling  as  this  is  present  habitually  in 
the  performance  of  duties,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  state  of 
the  man’s  mind,  in  performing  it,  contains  something  intrinsic- 
ally good.  Nor  can  it  be  denied  that,  where  a disposition  to 
perform  duties  consists  in  the  disposition  to  be  moved  to  them 
by  such  feelings,  we  call  that  disposition  a virtue.  Here,  there- 
fore, we  have  instances  of  virtue,  the  exercise  of  which  really 
contains  something  that  is  good  in  itself.  And,  in  general,  we 
may  say  that  wherever  a virtue  does  consist  in  a disposition  to 
have  certain  motives,  the  exercise  of  that  virtue  may  be  intrin- 
sically good;  although  the  degree  of  its  goodness  may  vary 
indefinitely  according  to  the  precise  nature  of  the  motives  and 
their  objects.  In  so  far,  then,  as  Christianity  tends  to  emphasize 
the  importance  of  motives,  of  the  ‘inward’  disposition  with 
which  a right  action  is  done,  we  may  say  that  it  has  done  a 
service  to  Ethics.  But  it  should  be  noticed  that,  when  Christian 
Ethics,  as  represented  by  the  New  Testament,  are  praised  for 


178 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


[chap. 


this,  two  distinctions  of  the  utmost  importance,  which  they 
entirely  neglect,  are  very  commonly  overlooked.  In  the  first 
place  the  New  Testament  is  largely  occupied  with  continuing 
the  tradition  of  the  Hebrew  prophets,  by  recommending  such 
virtues  as  ‘justice’  and  ‘mercy’  as  against  mere  ritual  obser- 
vances; and,  in  so  far  as  it  does  this,  it  is  recommending  virtues 
which  may  be  merely  good  as  means,  exactly  like  the  Aristotelian 
virtues.  This  characteristic  of  its  teaching  must  therefore  be 
rigorously  distinguished  from  that  which  consists  in  its  enforce- 
ment of  such  a view  as  that  to  be  angry  without  a cause  is  as  bad 
as  actually  to  commit  murder.  And,  in  the  second  place,  though 
the  New  Testament  does  praise  some  things  wdiich  are  only  good 
as  means,  and  others  which  are  good  in  themselves,  it  entirely 
fails  to  recognise  this  distinction.  Though  the  state  of  the 
man  who  is  angry  may  be  really  as  bad  in  itself  as  that  of  the 
murderer,  and  so  far  Christ  may  be  right.  His  language  would  lead 
us  to  suppose  that  it  is  also  as  bad  in  every  way,  that  it  also 
causes  as  much  evil;  and  this  is  utterly  false.  In  short,  when 
Christian  Ethics  approves,  it  does  not  distinguish  whether  its 
approval  asserts  ‘This  is  a means  to  good’  or  ‘This  is  good  in 
itself’;  and  hence  it  both  praises  things  merely  good  as  means, 
as  if  they  were  good  in  themselves,  and  things  merely  good  in 
themselves  as  if  they  were  also  good  as  means.  Moreover  it 
should  be  noticed,  that  if  Christian  Ethics  does  draw  attention 
to  those  elements  in  virtues  which  are  good  in  themselves,  it  is 
by  no  means  alone  in  this.  The  Ethics  of  Plato  are  distinguished 
by  upholding,  far  more  clearly  and  consistently  than  any  other 
system,  the  view  that  intrinsic  value  belongs  exclusively  to  those 
states  of  mind  which  consist  in  love  of  what  is  good  or  hatred 
of  what  is  evil. 

108.  But  (c)  the  Ethics  of  Christianity  are  distinguished 
from  those  of  Plato  by  emphasizing  the  value  of  one  particular 
motive — that  which  consists  in  the  emotion  excited  by  the  idea, 
not  of  any  intrinsically  good  consequences  of  the  action  in 
question,  nor  even  of  the  action  itself,  but  by  that  of  its  right- 
ness. This  idea  of  abstract  ‘rightness’  and  the  various  degrees 
of  the  specific  emotion  excited  by  it  are  what  constitute  the 
specifically  ‘moral  sentiment’  or  ‘conscience.’  An  action  seems 


V] 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


179 


to  be  most  properly  termed  ‘internally  rights’  solely  in  virtue 
of  the  fact  that  the  agent  has  previously  regarded  it  as  right: 
the  idea  of ‘rightness’  must  have  been  present  to  his  mind,  but 
need  not  necessarily  have  been  among  his  motives.  And  we 
mean  by  a ‘conscientious’  man,  one  who,  when  he  deliberates, 
always  has  this  idea  in  his  mind,  and  does  net  act  until  he 
believes  that  his  action  is  right. 

The  presence  of  this  idea  and  its  action  as  a motive  certainly 
seem  to  have  become  more  common  objects  of  notice  and  com- 
mendation owing  to  the  influence  of  Christianity;  but  it  is 
important  to  observe  that  there  is  no  ground  for  the  view, 
which  Kant  implies,  that  it  is  the  only  motive  which  the  New 
Testament  regards  as  intrinsically  valuable.  There  seems  little 
doubt  that  when  Christ  tells  us  to  ‘Love  our  neighbours  as 
ourselves,’  He  did  not  mean  merely  what  Kant  calls  ‘practical 
love’ — beneficence  of  which  the  sole  motive  is  the  idea  of  its 
rightness,  or  the  emotion  caused  by  that  idea.  Among  the 
‘inward  dispositions’  of  which  the  New  Testament  inculcates 
the  value,  there  are  certainly  included  what  Kant  terms  mere 
‘natural  inclinations,’  such  as  pity  etc. 

But  what  are  we  to  say  of  virtue,  when  it  consists  in  a 
disposition  to  be  moved  to  the  performance  of  duties  by  this 
idea?  It  seems  difficult  to  deny  that  the  emotion  excited  by 
rightness  as  such  has  some  intrinsic  value;  and  still  more 
difficult  to  deny  that  its  presence  may  heighten  the  value  of 
some  wholes  into  which  it  enters.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it 
certainly  has  not  more  value  than  many  of  the  motives  treated 
in  our  last  section — emotions  of  love  towards  things  really  good 
in  themselves.  And  as  for  Kant’s  implication  that  it  is  the  sole 
good^  this  is  inconsistent  with  other  of  his  own  views.  For  he 
certainly  regards  it  as  better  to  perform  the  actions,  to  which  he 
maintains  that  it  prompts  us — namely,  ‘material’  duties — than 
to  omit  them.  But,  if  better  at  all,  then,  these  actions  must  be 

I This  sense  of  the  term  must  be  carefully  distinguished  from  that  in  which 
the  agent’s  intention  may  be  said  to  be  ‘ right,’  if  only  the  results  he  intended 
would  have  been  the  best  possible. 

* Kant,  so  far  as  I know,  never  expressly  states  this  view,  but  it  is  implied 
e.g.  in  his  argument  against  Heteronomy. 


180  ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT  [CHAP. 

better  either  in  themselves  or  as  a means.  The  former  hypo- 
thesis would  directly  contradict  the  statement  that  this  motive 
was  sole  good,  and  the  latter  is  excluded  by  Kant  himself  since 
he  maintains  that  no  actions  can  cause  the  existence  of  this 
motive.  And  it  may  also  be  observed  that  the  other  claim 
which  he  makes  for  it,  namely,  that  it  is  always  good  as 
a means,  can  also  not  be  maintained.  It  is  as  certain  as 
anything  can  be  that  very  harmful  actions  may  be  done  from 
conscientious  motives;  and  that  Conscience  does  not  always 
tell  us  the  truth  about  what  actions  are  right.  Nor  can  it  be 
maintained  even  that  it  is  more  useful  than  many  other  motives. 
All  that  can  be  admitted  is  that  it  is  one  of  the  things  which 
are  generally  useful. 

What  more  I have  to  say  with  regard  to  those  elements  in 
some  virtues  which  are  good  in  themselves,  and  with  regard  to 
their  relative  degrees  of  excellence,  as  well  as  the  proof  that 
all  of  them  together  cannot  be  the  sole  good,  may  be  deferred 
to  the  next  chapter. 

109.  The  main  points  in  this  chapter,  to  which  I desire  to 
direct  attention,  may  be  summarised  as  follows: — (1)  I first 
pointed  out  how  the  subject-matter  with  which  it  deals,  namely, 
ethical  judgments  on  conduct,  involves  a question,  utterly 
different  in  kind  from  the  two  previously  discussed,  namely: 
(a)  What  is  the  nature  of  the  predicate  peculiar  to  Ethics? 
and  (6)  What  kinds  of  things  themselves  possess  this  predicate? 
Practical  Ethics  asks,  not  ‘What  ought  to  be?’  but  ‘What  ought 
we  to  do?’;  it  asks  what  actions  are  duties,  what  actions  are 
right,  and  what  wrong:  and  all  these  questions  can  only  be 
answered  by  shewing  the  relation  of  the  actions  in  question,  as 
causes  or  necessary  conditions,  to  what  is  good  in  itself.  The 
enquiries  of  Practical  Ethics  thus  fall  entirely  under  the  third 
division  of  ethical  questions — questions  which  ask,  ‘What  is 
good  as  a means?’  which  is  equivalent  to  ‘What  is  a means 
to  good — what  is  cause  or  necessary  condition  of  things  good 
in  themselves?’  (86 — 88).  But  (2)  it  asks  this  question,  almost 
exclusively,  with  regard  to  actions  which  it  is  possible  for  most 
men  to  perform,  if  only  they  will  them;  and  with  regard  to 
these,  it  does  not  ask  merely,  which  among  them  will  have  some 


V] 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT 


181 


good  or  bad  result,  but  which,  among  all  the  actions  possible  to 
volition  at  any  moment,  will  produce  the  best  total  result.  To 
assert  that  an  action  is  a duty,  is  to  assert  that  it  is  such 
a possible  action,  which  will  always,  in  certain  known  cir- 
cumstances, produce  better  results  than  any  other.  It  follows 
that  universal  propositions  of  which  duty  is  predicate,  so  far 
from  being  self-evident,  always  require  a proof,  which  it  is 
be}mnd  our  present  means  of  knowledge  ever  to  give  (89 — 92). 
But  (3)  all  that  Ethics  has  attempted  or  can  attempt,  is  to 
shew  that  certain  actions,  possible  by  volition,  generally  produce 
better  or  worse  total  results  than  any  probable  alternative  ; 
and  it  must  obviously  be  very  difficult  to  shew  this  with  regard 
to  the  total  results  even  in  a comparatively  near  future ; 
whereas  that  what  has  the  best  results  in  such  a near  future, 
also  has  the  best  on  the  whole,  is  a point  requiring  an 
investigation  which  it  has  not  received.  If  it  is  true,  and  if, 
accordingly,  we  give  the  name  of  ‘ duty  ’ to  actions  which 
generally  produce  better  total  results  in  the  near  future  than 
any  possible  alternative,  it  may  be  possible  to  prove  that  a few 
of  the  commonest  rules  of  duty  are  true,  but  only  in  certain 
conditions  of  society,  which  may  be  more  or  less  universally 
presented  in  history ; and  such  a proof  is  only  possible  in  some 
cases  without  a correct  judgment  of  what  things  are  good 
or  bad  in  themselves — a judgment  which  has  never  yet  been 
offered  by  ethical  writers.  With  regard  to  actions  of  which  the 
general  utility  is  thus  proved,  the  individual  should  always 
perform  them ; but  in  other  cases,  where  rules  are  commonly 
offered,  he  should  rather  judge  of  the  probable  results  in 
his  particular  case,  guided  by  a correct  conception  of  what 
things  are  intrinsically  good  or  bad  (93 — 100).  (4)  In  order 

that  any  action  may  be  shewn  to  be  a duty,  it  must  be 
shewn  to  fulfil  the  above  conditions ; but  the  actions  commonly 
called  ‘ duties  ’ do  not  fulfil  them  to  any  greater  extent 
than  ‘ expedient  ’ or  ' interested  ’ actions : by  calling  them 
‘ duties  ’ we  only  mean  that  they  have,  in  addition,  certain 
non-ethical  predicates.  Similarly  by  ‘ virtue  ’ is  mainly  meant 
a permanent  disposition  to  perform  ‘ duties  ’ in  this  restricted 


182 


ETHICS  IN  RELATION  TO  CONDUCT  [CHAP.  V 

sense:  and  accordingly  a virtue,  if  it  is  really  a virtue, 
must  be  good  as  a means,  in  the  sense  that  it  fulfils  the 
above  conditions ; but  it  is  not  better  as  a means  than  non- 
virtuous  dispositions;  it  generally  has  no  value  in  itself; 
and,  where  it  has,  it  is  far  from  being  the  sole  good  or  the 
best  of  goods.  Accordingly  ‘virtue’  is  not,  as  is  commonly 
implied,  an  unique  ethical  predicate  (101—109). 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  IDEAL. 

110.  The  title  of  this  chapter  is  amhiguous.  When  we 
call  a state  of  things  ‘ ideal  ’ we  may  mean  three  distinct  things, 
which  have  only  this  in  common : that  we  always  do  mean  to 
assert,  of  the  state  of  things  in  question,  nob  only  that  it 
is  good  in  itself,  but  that  it  is  good  in  itself  in  a much  higher 
degree  than  many  other  things.  The  first  of  these  meanings 
of  ‘ideal’  is  (1)  that  to  which  the  phrase  ‘The  Ideal’  is  most 
properly  confined.  By  this  is  meant  the  best  state  of  things 
conceivable,  the  Summum  Bonum  or  Absolute  Good.  It  is 
in  this  sense  that  a right  conception  of  Heaven  would  be 
a right  conception  of  the  Ideal : we  mean  by  the  Ideal  a state 
of  things  which  would  be  absolutely  perfect.  But  this  con- 
ception may  be  quite  clearly  distinguished  from  a second, 
namely,  (2)  that  of  the  best  'possible  state  of  things  in  this 
world.  This  second  conception  may  be  identified  with  that 
which  has  frequently  figured  in  philosophy  as  the  ‘ Human 
Good,’  or  the  ultimate  end  towards  which  our  action  should 
be  directed.  It  is  in  this  sense  that  Utopias  are  said  to  be 
Ideals.  The  constructor  of  an  Utopia  may  suppose  many 
things  to  be  possible,  which  are  in  fact  impossible;  but  he 
always  assumes  that  some  things,  at  least,  are  rendered  impos- 
sible by  natural  laws,  and  hence  his  construction  differs 
essentially  from  one  which  may  disregard  all  natural  laws, 
however  certainly  established.  At  all  events  the  question 
‘ What  is  the  best  state  of  things  which  we  could  possibly  bring 
about  ? ’ is  quite  distinct  from  the  question  ‘ What  would  be  the 
best  state  of  things  conceivable  ? ’ But,  thirdly,  we  may  meam 


184 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


by  calling  a state  of  things  ‘ideal’  merely  (3)  that  it  is  good 
in  itself  in  a high  degree.  And  it  is  obvious  that  the  question 
what  things  are  ‘ ideal  ’ in  this  sense  is  one  which  must  be 
answered  before  we  can  pretend  to  settle  what  is  the  Absolute 
or  the  Human  Good.  It  is  with  the  Ideal,  in  this  third  sense, 
that  this  chapter  will  be  principally  concerned.  Its  main 
object  is  to  arrive  at  some  positive  answer  to  the  fundamental 
question  of  Ethics — the  question : ‘ What  things  are  goods  or 
ends  in  themselves  ? ’ To  this  question  we  have  hitherto 
obtained  only  a negative  answer:  the  answer  that  pleasure 
is  certainly  not  the  sole  good. 

111.  I have  just  said  that  it  is  upon  a correct  answer 
to  this  question  that  correct  answers  to  the  two  other  questions. 
What  is  the  Absolute  Good  ? and  What  is  the  Human  Good  ? 
must  depend ; and,  before  proceeding  to  discuss  it,  it  may 
be  well  to  point  out  the  relation  which  it  has  to  these  two 
questions. 

(1)  It  is  just  possible  that  the  Absolute  Good  may  be 
entirely  composed  of  qualities  which  we  cannot  even  imagine. 
This  is  possible,  because,  though  we  certainly  do  know  a great 
many  things  that  are  good-in-themselves,  and  good  in  a high 
degree,  yet  what  is  best  does  not  necessarily  contain  all  the 
good  things  there  are.  That  this  is  so  follows  from  the 
principle  explained  in  Chap.  I.  (§§  18 — 22),  to  which  it  was  there 
proposed  that  the  name  ‘ principle  of  organic  unities  ’ should  be 
confined.  This  principle  is  that  the  intrinsic  value  of  a whole 
is  neither  identical  with  nor  proportional  to  the  sum  of  the 
values  of  its  parts.  It  follows  from  this  that,  though  in  order 
to  obtain  the  greatest  possible  sum  of  values  in  its  parts, 
the  Ideal  would  necessarily  contain  all  the  things  which  have 
intrinsic  value  in  any  degree,  yet  the  whole  which  contained 
all  these  parts  might  not  be  so  valuable  as  some  other  whole, 
from  which  certain  positive  goods  were  omitted.  But  if  a 
whole,  which  does  not  contain  all  positive  goods,  may  yet 
be  better  than  a whole  which  does,  it  follows  that  the  best 
whole  may  be  one,  which  contains  none  of  the  positive  goods 
with  which  we  are  acquainted. 

It  is,  therefore,  possible  that  we  cannot  discover  what 


VI] 


THE  IDEAL 


185 


the  Ideal  is.  But  it  is  plain  that,  though  this  possibility 
cannot  be  denied,  no  one  can  have  any  right  to  assert  that 
it  is  realised — that  the  Ideal  is  something  unimaginable.  We 
cannot  judge  of  the  comparative  values  of  things,  unless 
the  things  we  judge  are  before  our  minds.  We  cannot,  there- 
fore, be  entitled  to  assert  that  anything,  which  we  cannot 
imagine,  would  be  better  than  some  of  the  things  which  we 
can;  although  we  are  also  not  entitled  to  deny  the  possibility 
that  this  may  be  the  case.  Consequently  our  search  for  the 
Ideal  must  be  hmited  to  a search  for  that  one,  among  all 
the  wholes  composed  of  elements  known  to  us,  which  seems  to 
be  better  than  all  the  rest.  We  shall  never  be  entitled  to 
assert  that  this  whole  is  Perfection,  but  we  shall  be  entitled 
to  assert  that  it  is  better  than  any  other  which  may  be  presented 
as  a rival. 

But,  since  anything  which  we  can  have  any  reason  to  think 
ideal  must  be  composed  of  things  that  are  known  to  us,  it 
is  plain  that  a comparative  valuation  of  these  must  be  our  chief 
instrument  for  deciding  what  is  ideal.  The  best  ideal  we  can 
construct  will  be  that  state  of  things  which  contains  the 
greatest  number  of  things  having  positive  value,  and  which 
contains  nothing  evil  or  indifferent — 'provided  that  the  presence 
of  none  of  these  goods,  or  the  absence  of  things  evil  or 
indifferent,  seems  to  diminish  the  value  of  the  whole.  And, 
in  fact,  the  chief  defect  of  such  attempts  as  have  been  made  by 
philosophers  to  construct  an  Ideal — to  describe  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven — seems  to  consist  in  the  fact  that  they  omit  many 
things  of  very  great  positive  value,  although  it  is  plain  that 
this  omission  does  not  enhance  the  value  of  the  whole.  Where 
this  is  the  case,  it  may  be  confidently  asserted  that  the  ideal 
proposed  is  not  ideal.  And  the  review  of  positive  goods,  which 
I am  about  to  undertake,  will,  I hope,  shew  that  no  ideals  yet 
proposed  are  satisfactory.  Great  positive  goods,  it  will  appear, 
are  so  numerous,  that  any  whole,  which  shall  contain  them  all, 
must  be  of  vast  complexity.  And  though  this  fact  renders 
it  dif6.cult,  or,  humanly  speaking,  impossible,  to  decide  what 
is  The  Ideal,  what  is  the  absolutely  best  state  of  things 
imaginable,  it  is  sufficient  to  condemn  those  Ideals,  which 


186 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


are  formed  by  omission,  without  any  visible  gain  in  consequence 
of  such  omission.  Philosophers  seem  usually  to  have  sought 
only  for  the  best  of  single  things;  neglecting  the  fact  that 
a whole  composed  of  two  great  goods,  even  though  one  of  these 
be  obviously  inferior  to  the  other,  may  yet  be  often  seen  to  be 
decidedly  superior  to  either  by  itself. 

(2)  On  the  other  hand,  Utopias — attempted  descriptions 
of  a Heaven  upon  Earth — commonly  suffer  not  only  from  this, 
but  also  from  the  opposite  defect.  They  are  commonly  con- 
structed on  the  principle  of  merely  omitting  the  great  positive 
evils,  which  exist  at  present,  with  utterly  inadequate  regard 
to  the  goodness  of  what  they  retain : the  so-called  goods,  to 
which  they  have  regard,  are,  for  the  most  part,  things  which 
are,  at  best,  mere  means  to  good — things,  such  as  freedom, 
without  which,  possibly,  nothing  very  good  can  exist  in  this 
world,  but  which  are  of  no  value  in  themselves  and  are  by  no 
means  certain  even  to  produce  anything  of  value.  It  is,  of 
course,  necessary  to  the  purpose  of  their  authors,  whose  object 
is  merely  to  construct  the  best  that  may  be  possible  in  this 
world,  that  they  should  include,  in  the  state  of  things  which 
they  describe,  many  things,  which  are  themselves  indifferent, 
but  which,  according  to  natural  laws,  seem  to  be  absolutely 
necessary  for  the  existence  of  anything  which  is  good.  But,  in 
fact,  they  are  apt  to  include  many  things,  of  which  the 
necessity  is  by  no  means  apparent,  under  the  mistaken  idea 
that  these  things  are  goods-in-themselves,  and  not  merely,  here 
and  now,  a means  to  good : while,  on  the  other  hand,  they  also 
omit  from  their  description  great  positive  goods,  of  which  the 
attainment  seems  to  be  quite  as  possible  as  many  of  the  changes 
which  they  recommend.  That  is  to  say,  conceptions  of  the 
Human  Good  commonly  err,  not  only,  like  those  of  the  Absolute 
Good,  in  omitting  some  great  goods,  but  also  by  including 
things  indifferent;  and  they  both  omit  and  include  in  cases 
where  the  limitations  of  natural  necessity,  by  the  consideration 
of  which  they  are  legitimately  differentiated  from  conceptions 
of  the  Absolute  Good,  will  not  justify  the  omission  and 
inclusion.  It  is,  in  fact,  obvious  that  in  order  to  decide 
correctly  at  what  state  of  things  we  ought  to  aim,  we  must  not 


VI] 


THE  IDEAL 


187 


only  consider  what  results  it  is  possible  for  us  to  obtain,  but 
also  which,  among  equally  possible  results,  will  have  the 
greatest  value.  And  upon  this  second  enquiry  the  comparative 
valuation  of  known  goods  has  a no  less  important  bearing  than 
upon  the  investigation  of  the  Absolute  Good. 

112.  The  method  which  must  be  employed  in  order  to 
decide  the  question  ‘ What  things  have  intrinsic  value,  and 
in  what  degrees?’  has  already  been  explained  in  Chap.  III. 
(§§5.5,  57).  In  order  to  arrive  at  a correct  decision  on  the  first 
part  of  this  question,  it  is  necessary  to  consider  what  things  are 
such  that,  if  they  existed  hy  themselves,  in  absolute  isolation, 
we  should  yet  judge  their  existence  to  be  good;  and,  in  order 
to  decide  upon  the  relative  degrees  of  value  of  different  things, 
we  must  similarly  consider  what  comparative  value  seems  to 
attach  to  the  isolated  existence  of  each.  By  employing  this 
method,  we  shall  guard  against  two  errors,  which  seem  to  have 
been  the  chief  causes  which  have  vitiated  previous  conclusions 
on  the  subject.  The  first  of  these  is  (1)  that  which  consists  in 
supposing  that  what  seems  absolutely  necessary  here  and  now, 
for  the  existence  of  anything  good — what  we  cannot  do  with- 
out— is  therefore  good  in  itself.  If  we  isolate  such  things, 
which  are  mere  means  to  good,  and  suppose  a world  in  which 
they  alone,  and  nothing  but  they,  existed,  their  intrinsic 
worthlessness  becomes  apparent.  And,  secondly,  there  is  the 
more  subtle  error  (2)  which  consists  in  neglecting  the  principle 
of  organic  unities.  This  error  is  committed,  when  it  is 
supposed,  that,  if  one  part  of  a whole  has  no  intrinsic  value,  the 
value  of  the  whole  must  reside  entirely  in  the  other  parts. 
It  has,  in  this  way,  been  commonly  supposed,  that,  if  all 
valuable  wholes  could  be  seen  to  have  one  and  only  one  common 
property,  the  wholes  must  be  valuable  solely  because  they 
possess  this  property ; and  the  illusion  is  greatly  strengthened, 
if  the  common  property  in  question  seems,  considered  by  itself, 
to  have  more  value  than  the  other  parts  of  such  wholes, 
considered  by  themselves.  But,  if  we  consider  the  property 
in  question,  in  isolation,  and  then  compare  it  with  the  whole, 
of  which  it  forms  a part,  it  may  become  easily  apparent  that, 
existing  by  itself,  the  property  in  question  has  not  nearly 


188 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


SO  much  value,  as  has  the  whole  to  which  it  belongs.  Thus, 
if  we  compare  the  value  of  a certain  amount  of  pleasure, 
existing  absolutely  by  itself,  with  the  value  of  certain  ‘ enjoy- 
ments,’ containing  an  equal  amount  of  pleasure,  it  may  become 
apparent  that  the  ‘enjoyment’  is  much  better  than  the 
pleasure,  and  also,  in  some  cases,  much  worse.  In  such  a case 
it  is  plain  that  the  ‘ enjoyment  ’ does  not  owe  its  value  solely  to 
the  pleasure  it  contains,  although  it  might  easily  have  appeared 
to  do  so,  when  we  only  considered  the  other  constituents  of  the 
enjoyment,  and  seemed  to  see  that,  without  the  pleasure,  they 
would  have  had  no  value.  It  is  now  apparent,  on  the  contrary, 
that  the  whole  ‘ enjoyment  ’ owes  its  value  quite  equally  to  the 
presence  of  the  other  constituents,  even  though  it  may  be  true 
that  the  pleasure  is  the  only  constituent  having  any  value 
by  itself.  And  similarly,  if  we  are  told  that  all  things  owe 
their  value  solely  to  the  fact  that  they  are  ‘ realisations  of  the 
true  self,’  we  may  easily  refute  this  statement,  by  asking 
whether  the  predicate  that  is  meant  by  ‘ realising  the  true  self,’ 
supposing  that  it  could  exist  alone,  would  have  any  value 
whatsoever.  Either  the  thing,  which  does  ‘realise  the  true  self,’ 
has  intrinsic  value  or  it  has  not ; and  if  it  has,  then  it  certainly 
does  not  owe  its  value  solely  to  the  fact  that  it  realises  the  true 
self. 

113.  If,  now,  we  use  this  method  of  absolute  isolation,  and 
guard  against  these  errors,  it  appears  that  the  question  we  have 
to  answer  is  far  less  difficult  than  the  controversies  of  Ethics 
might  have  led  us  to  expect.  Indeed,  once  the  meaning  of  the 
question  is  clearly  understood,  the  answer  to  it,  in  its  main 
outlines,  appears  to  be  so  obvious,  that  it  runs  the  risk  of 
seeming  to  be  a platitude.  By  far  the  most  valuable  things,  j 
which  we  know  or  can  imagine,  are  certain  states  of  conscious-  ' 
ness,  which  may  be  roughly  described  as  the  pleasures  of  human ; 
intercourse  and  the  enjoyment  of  beautiful  objects.  No  one,' 
probably,  who  has  asked  himself  the  question,  has  ever  doubted 
that  personal  affection  and  the  appreciation  of  what  is  beautiful 
in  Art  or  Nature,  are  good  in  themselves ; nor,  if  we  consider 
strictly  what  things  are  worth  having  purely  for  their  own 
sakes,  does  it  appear  probable  that  any  one  will  think  that 


VI] 


THE  IDEAL 


189 


anything  else  has  nearly  so  great  a value  as  the  things  which 
are  included  under  these  two  heads.  I have  myself  urged  in 
Chap.  III.  (§  50)  that  the  mere  existence  of  what  is  beautiful 
does  appear  to  have  some  intrinsic  value;  but  I regard  it  as 
indubitable  that  Prof.  Sidgwick  was  so  far  right,  in  the  view 
there  discussed,  that  such  mere  existence  of  what  is  beautiful 
has  value,  so  small  as  to  be  negligible,  in  comparison  with  that 
which  attaches  to  the  consciousness  of  beauty.  This  simple 
truth  may,  indeed,  be  said  to  be  universally  recognised.  What 
has  not  been  recognised  is  that  it  is  the  ultimate  and  funda- 
mental truth  of  Moral  Philosophy.  That  it  is  only  for  the  sake ' 
of  these  things — in  order  that  as  much  of  them  as  possible  may 
at  some  time  exist — that  any  one  can  be  justified  in  performing 
any  public  or  private  duty ; that  they  are  the  raison  d’etre 
of  virtue;  that  it  is  they — these  complex  wholes  themselves, 
and  not  any  constituent  or  characteristic  of  them — that  form  ‘ 
the  rational  ultimate  end  of  human  action  and  the  sole  criterion  1 
of  social  progress : these  appear  to  be  truths  which  have  been  ; 
generally  overlooked. 

That  they  are  truths — that  personal  affections  and  aesthetic 
enjoyments  include  all  the  greatest,  and  by  far  the  greatest, 
goods  we  can  imagine,  will,  I hope,  appear  more  plainly  in  the 
course  of  that  analysis  of  them,  to  which  I shall  now  proceed. 
All  the  things,  which  I have  meant  to  include  under  the  above 
descriptions,  are  highly  complex  organic  unities’,  and  in  dis- 
cussing the  consequences,  which  follow  from  this  fact,  and  the 
elements  of  which  they  are  composed,  I may  hope  at  the  same 
time  both  to  confirm  and  to  define  my  position. 

114.  I.  I propose  to  begin  by  examining  what  I have 
called  aesthetic  enjoyments,  since  the  case  of  personal  affections 
presents  some  additional  complications.  It  is,  I think,  uni- 
versally admitted  that  the  proper  appreciation  of  a beautiful 
object  is  a good  thing  in  itself;  and  my  question  is;  What  are 
the  main  elements  included  in  such  an  appreciation  ? 

(1)  It  is  plain  that  in  those  instances  of  aesthetic  apprecia- 
tion, which  we  think  most  valuable,  there  is  included,  not 
merely  a bare  cognition  of  what  is  beautiful  in  the  object,  but 
also  some  kind  of  feeling  or  emotion.  It  is  not  sufiScient  that 


190 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


a man  should  merely  see  the  beautiful  qualities  in  a picture 
and  know  that  they  are  beautiful,  in  order  that  we  may  give 
his  state  of  mind  the  highest  praise.  We  require  that  he 
should  also  appreciate  the  beauty  of  that  which  he  sees  and 
which  he  knows  to  be  beautiful — that  he  should  feel  and  see 
its  beauty.  And  by  these  expressions  we  certainly  mean  that 
he  should  have  an  appropriate  emotion  towards  the  beautiful 
quahties  which  he  cognises.  It  is  perhaps  the  case  that  aU 
aesthetic  emotions  have  some  common  quality;  but  it  is  certain 
that  differences  in  the  emotion  seem  to  be  appropriate  to  differ- 
ences in  the  kind  of  beauty  perceived:  and  by  saying  that 
different  emotions  are  appropriate  to  different  kinds  of  beauty, 
we  mean  that  the  whole  which  is  formed  by  the  consciousness 
of  that  kind  of  beauty  together  with  the  emotion  appropriate  to 
it,  is  better  than  if  any  other  emotion  had  been  felt  in  contem- 
plating that  particular  beautiful  object.  Accordingly  we  have 
a large  variety  of  different  emotions,  each  of  which  is  a necessary 
constituent  in  some  state  of  consciousness  which  we  judge  to 
be  good.  All  of  these  emotions  are  essential  elements  in  great 
positive  goods;  they  are  parts  of  organic  wholes,  which  have 
great  intrinsic  value.  But  it  is  important  to  observe  that  these 
wholes  are  organic,  and  that,  hence,  it  does  not  follow  that  the 
emotion,  by  itself,  would  have  any  value  whatsoever,  nor  yet 
that,  if  it  were  directed  to  a different  object,  the  whole  thus 
formed  might  not  be  positively  bad.  And,  in  fact,  it  seems  to 
be  the  case  that  if  we  distinguish  the  emotional  element,  in 
any  aesthetic  appreciation,  from  the  cognitive  element,  which 
accompanies  it  and  is,  in  fact,  commonly  thought  of  as  a part 
of  the  emotion;  and  if  we  consider  what  value  this  emotional 
element  would  have,  existing  by  itself,  we  can  hardly  think  that 
it  has  any  great  value,  even  if  it  has  any  at  all.  Whereas, 
if  the  same  emotion  be  directed  to  a different  object,  if,  for 
instance,  it  is  felt  towards  an  object  that  is  positively  ugly,  the 
whole  state  of  consciousness  is  certainly  often  positively  bad  in 
a high  degree. 

115.  (2)  In  the  last  paragraph  I have  pointed  out  the  two 

facts,  that  the  presence  of  some  emotion  is  necessary  to  give 
any  very  high  value  to  a state  of  aesthetic  appreciation,  and 


VI] 


THE  IDEAL 


191 


that,  on  the  other  hand,  this  same  emotion,  in  itself,  may  have 
little  or  no  value : it  follows  that  these  emotions  give  to  the 
wholes  of  which  they  form  a part  a value  far  greater  than  that 
which  they  themselves  possess.  The  same  is  obviously  true  of 
the  cognitive  element  Avhich  must  be  combined  with  these 
emotions  in  order  to  form  these  highly  valuable  wholes ; and 
the  present  paragraph  will  attempt  to  define  what  is  meant 
by  this  cognitive  element,  so  far  as  to  guard  against  a possible 
misunderstanding.  When  we  talk  of  seeing  a beautiful  object, 
or,  more  generally,  of  the  cognition  or  consciousness  of  a 
beautiful  object,  we  may  mean  by  these  expressions  something 
which  forms  no  part  of  any  valuable  whole.  There  is  an 
ambiguity  in  the  use  of  the  term  ‘ object,’  which  has  probably 
been  responsible  for  as  many  enormous  errors  in  philosophy  and 
psychology  as  any  other  single  cause.  This  ambiguity  may 
easily  be  detected  by  considering  the  proposition,  which,  though 
a contradiction  in  terms,  is  obviously  true ; That  when  a man 
sees  a beautiful  picture,  he  may  see  nothing  beautiful  w'hatever. 
The  ambiguity  consists  in  the  fact  that,  by  the  ‘object’  of  vision 
(or  cognition),  may  be  meant  either  the  qualities  actually  seen 
or  all  the  qualities  possessed  by  the  thing  seen.  Thus  in  our 
case : when  it  is  said  that  the  picture  is  beautiful,  it  is  meant 
that  it  contains  qualities  which  are  beautiful ; when  it  is  said 
that  the  man  sees  the  picture,  it  is  meant  that  he  sees  a great 
number  of  the  qualities  contained  in  the  picture;  and  when 
it  is  said  that,  nevertheless,  he  sees  nothing  beautiful,  it  is 
meant  that  he  does  not  see  those  qualities  of  the  picture  which 
are  beautiful.  When,  therefore,  I speak  of  the  cognitiou  of  a 
beautiful  object,  as  an  essential  element  in  a valuable  aesthetic 
appreciation,  I must  be  understood  to  mean  only  the  cognition 
of  the  beautiful  qualities  possessed  by  that  object,  and  not  the 
cognition  of  other  qualities  of  the  object  possessing  them.  And 
this  distinction  must  itself  be  carefully  distinguished  from  the 
other  distinction  expressed  above  by  the  distinct  terms  ‘ seeing 
the  beauty  of  a thing’  and  ‘seeing  its  beautiful  qualities.’  By 
‘seeing  the  beauty  of  a thing’  we  commonly  mean  the  having 
an  emotion  towards  its  beautiful  qualities ; w'hereas  in  the 
‘seeing  of  its  beautiful  qualities’  we  do  not  include  any  emotion. 


192 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


By  the  cognitive  element,  which  is  equally  necessary  with 
emotion  to  the  existence  of  a valuable  appreciation,  I mean 
merely  the  actual  cognition  or  consciousness  of  any  or  all  of  an 
object’s  beautiful  qualities — that  is  to  say  any  or  all  of  those 
elements  in  the  object  which  possess  any  positive  beauty. 
That  such  a cognitive  element  is  essential  to  a valuable  whole 
may  be  easily  seen,  by  asking ; What  value  should  we  attribute 
to  the  proper  emotion  excited  by  hearing  Beethoven’s  Fifth 
Symphony,  if  that  emotion  were  entirely  unaccompanied  by 
any  consciousness,  either  of  the  notes,  or  of  the  melodic  and 
harmonic  relations  between  them  ? And  that  the  mere  hearing 
of  the  Symphony,  even  accompanied  by  the  appropriate  emotion, 
is  not  sufficient,  may  be  easily  seen,  if  we  consider  what  would 
be  the  state  of  a man,  who  should  hear  all  the  notes,  but  should 
not  be  aware  of  any  of  those  melodic  and  harmonic  relations, 
which  are  necessary  to  constitute  the  smallest  beautiful  elements 
in  the  Symphony. 

116.  (3)  Connected  with  the  distinction  just  made  between 
‘object’  in  the  sense  of  the  qualities  actually  before  the  mind, 
and  ‘ object  ’ in  the  sense  of  the  whole  thing  which  possesses 
the  qualities  actually  before  the  mind,  is  another  distinction 
of  the  utmost  importance  for  a correct  analysis  of  the  con- 
stituents necessary  to  a valuable  whole.  It  is  commonly  and 
rightly  thought  that  to  see  beauty  in  a thing  which  has  no 
beauty  is  in  some  way  inferior  to  seeing  beauty  in  that  which 
really  has  it.  But  under  this  single  description  of  ‘seeing 
beauty  in  that  which  has  no  beauty,’  two  very  different  facts, 
and  facts  of  very  different  value,  may  be  included.  We  may 
mean  either  the  attribution  to  an  object  of  really  beautiful 
qualities  which  it  does  not  possess  or  the  feeling  towards 
qualities,  which  the  object  does  possess  but  which  are  in  reality 
not  beautiful,  an  emotion  which  is  appropriate  only  to  qual- 
ities really  beautiful.  Both  these  facts  are  of  very  frequent 
occurrence ; and  in  most  instances  of  emotion  both  no  doubt 
occur  together;  but  they  are  obviously  quite  distinct,  and 
the  distinction  is  of  the  utmost  importance  for  a correct 
estimate  of  values.  The  former  may  be  called  an  error  of 
judgment,  and  the  latter  an  error  of  taste;  but  it  is 


VI] 


THE  IDEAL 


193 


important  to  observe  that  the  ‘error  of  taste’  commonly  involves 
a false  judgment  of  value;  whereas  the  ‘error  of  judgment’ 
is  merely  a false  judgment  of  fact. 

Now  the  case  which  I have  called  an  error  of  taste,  namely, 
where  the  actual  qualities  we  admire  (whether  possessed  by  the 
‘object’  or  not)  are  ugly,  can  in  any  case  have  no  value,  except 
such  as  may  belong  to  the  emotion  by  itself;  and  in  most,  if  not 
in  all,  cases  it  is  a considerable  positive  evil.  In  this  sense, 
then,  it  is  undoubtedly  right  to  think  that  seeing  beauty  in  a 
thing  which  has  no  beauty  is  inferior  in  value  to  seeing  beauty 
where  beauty  really  is.  But  the  other  case  is  much  more 
difficult.  In  this  case  there  is  present  all  that  I have  hitherto 
mentioned  as  necessary  to  constitute  a great  positive  good: 
there  is  a cognition  of  qualities  really  beautiful,  together  with 
an  appropriate  emotion  towards  these  qualities.  There  can, 
therefore,  be  no  doubt  that  we  have  here  a great  positive  good. 
But  there  is  present  also  something  else ; namely,  a belief  that 
these  beautiful  qualities  exist,  and  that  they  exist  in  a certain 
relation  to  other  things — namely,  to  some  properties  of  the 
object  to  which  we  attribute  these  qualities:  and  further  the 
object  of  this  belief  is  false.  And  we  may  ask,  with  regard 
to  the  whole  thus  constituted,  whether  the  presence  of  the 
belief,  and  the  fact  that  what  is  believed  is  false,  make  any 
difference  to  its  value?  We  thus  get  three  different  cases 
of  which  it  is  very  important  to  determine  the  relative  values. 
Where  both  the  cognition  of  beautiful  qualities  and  the 
appropriate  emotion  are  present  we  may  also  have  either, 
(1)  a belief  in  the  existence  of  these  qualities,  of  which  the 
object,  i.e.  that  they  exist,  is  true : or  (2)  a mere  cognition, 
without  belief,  when  it  is  (a)  true,  (6)  false,  that  the  object 
of  the  cognition,  i.e.  the  beautiful  qualities,  exists : or  (3)  a 
belief  in  the  existence  of  the  beautiful  qualities,  when  they  do 
not  exist.  The  importance  of  these  cases  arises  from  the  fact 
that  the  second  defines  the  pleasures  of  imagination,  including 
a great  part  of  the  appreciation  of  those  works  of  art  which 
are  representative ; whereas  the  first  contrasts  with  these  the 
appreciation  of  what  is  beautiful  in  Nature,  and  the  human 
affections.  The  third,  on  the  other  hand,  is  contrasted  with 


194 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


both,  in  that  it  is  chiefly  exemplified  in  what  is  called 
misdirected  affection ; and  it  is  possible  also  that  the  love 
of  God,  in  the  case  of  a believer,  should  fall  under  this 
head. 

117.  Now  all  these  three  cases,  as  I have  said,  have 
something  in  common,  namely,  that,  in  them  all,  we  have 
a cognition  of  really  beautiful  qualities  together  with  an 
appropriate  emotion  towards  those  qualities.  I think,  therefore, 
it  cannot  be  doubted  (nor  is  it  commonly  doubted)  that  all 
three  include  great  positive  goods ; they  are  all  things  of  which 
we  feel  convinced  that  they  are  worth  having  for  their  own 
sakes.  And  I think  that  the  value  of  the  second,  in  either 
of  its  two  subdivisions,  is  precisely  the  same  as  the  value  of  the 
element  common  to  all  three.  In  other  words,  in  the  case  of 
purely  imaginative  appreciations  we  have  merely  the  cognition 
of  really  beautiful  qualities  together  with  the  appropriate 
emotion;  and  the  question,  whether  the  object  cognised  exists 
or  not,  seems  here,  where  there  is  no  belief  either  in  its 
existence  or  in  its  non-existence,  to  make  absolutely  no  differ- 
ence to  the  value  of  the  total  state.  But  it  seems  to  me  that 
the  two  other  cases  do  differ  in  intrinsic  value  both  from  this 
one  and  from  one  another,  even  though  the  object  cognised  and 
the  appropriate  emotion  should  be  identical  in  all  three  cases. 
I think  that  the  additional  presence  of  a belief  in  the  reality 
of  the  object  makes  the  total  state  much  better,  if  the  belief  is 
true ; and  worse,  if  the  belief  is  false.  In  short,  where  there 
is  belief,  in  the  sense  in  which  we  do  believe  in  the  existence 
of  Nature  and  horses,  and  do  not  believe  in  the  existence  of  an 
ideal  landscape  and  unicorns,  the  truth  of  what  is  believed  does 
make  a great  difference  to  the  value  of  the  organic  whole. 
If  this  be  the  case,  we  shall  have  vindicated  the  belief  that 
knowledge,  in  the  ordinary  sense,  as  distinguished  on  the 
one  hand  from  belief  in  what  is  false  and  on  the  other  from 
the  mere  awareness  of  what  is  true,  does  contribute  towards 
intrinsic  value — that,  at  least  in  some  cases,  its  presence  as  a 
part  makes  a whole  more  valuable  than  it  could  have  been 
without. 

Now  I think  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  we  do  judge  that 


VI] 


THE  IDEAL 


195 


there  is  a difference  of  value,  such  as  I have  indicated,  between 
the  three  cases  in  question.  We  do  think  that  the  emotional 
contemplation  of  a natural  scene,  supposing  its  qualities  equally 
beautiful,  is  in  some  way  a better  state  of  things  than  that  of  a 
painted  landscape  : we  think  that  the  world  would  be  improved 
if  we  could  substitute  for  the  best  works  of  representative  art 
real  objects  equally  beautiful.  And  similarly  we  regard  a 
misdirected  affection  or  admiration,  even  where  the  error 
involved  is  a mere  error  of  judgment  and  not  an  error  of  taste, 
as  in  some  way  unfortunate.  And  further,  those,  at  least,  who 
have  a strong  respect  for  truth,  are  inclined  to  think  that 
a merely  poetical  contemplation  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven 
would  be  superior  to  that  of  the  religious  believer,  if  it  were 
the  case  that  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  does  not  and  will  not 
really  exist.  Most  persons,  on  a sober,  reflective  judgment,  would 
feel  some  hesitation  even  in  preferring  the  felicity  of  a madman, 
convinced  that  the  world  was  ideal,  to  the  condition  either  of  a 
poet  imagining  an  ideal  world,  or  of  themselves  enjoying  and 
appreciating  the  lesser  goods  which  do  and  will  exist.  But,  in 
order  to  assure  ourselves  that  these  judgments  are  really 
iudgments  of  intrinsic  value  upon  the  question  before  us,  and 
to  satisfy  ourselves  that  they  are  correct,  it  is  necessary  clearly 
to  distinguish  our  question  from  two  others  which  have  a 
very  important  bearing  upon  our  total  judgment  of  the  cases 
in  question. 

118.  In  the  first  place  (a)  it  is  plain  that,  where  we  believe, 
the  question  whether  what  we  believe  is  true  or  false,  will 
generally  have  a most  important  bearing  upon  the  value  of  our 
belief  as  a means.  Where  we  believe,  we  are  apt  to  act  upon 
our  belief,  in  a way  in  which  we  do  not  act  upon  our  cognition 
of  the  events  in  a novel.  The  truth  of  what  we  believe  is, 
therefore,  very  important  as  preventing  the  pains  of  disappoint- 
ment and  still  more  serious  consequences.  And  it  might  be 
thought  that  a misdirected  attachment  was  unfortunate  solely 
for  this  reason : that  it  leads  us  to  count  upon  results,  which 
the  real  nature  of  its  object  is  not  of  a kind  to  ensure.  So  too 
the  Love  of  God,  where,  as  usual,  it  includes  the  belief  that  he 
will  annex  to  certain  actions  consequences,  either  in  this  life  or 


196 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


the  next,  which  the  course  of  nature  gives  no  reason  to  expect, 
may  lead  the  believer  to  perform  actions  of  which  the  actual 
consequences,  supposing  no  such  God  to  exist,  may  be  much 
worse  than  he  might  otherwise  have  effected:  and  it  might 
be  thought  that  this  was  the  sole  reason  (as  it  is  a sufficient 
one)  why  we  should  hesitate  to  encourage  the  Love  of  God,  in 
the  absence  of  any  proof  that  he  exists.  And  similarly  it  may 
be  thought  that  the  only  reason  why  beauty  in  Nature  should 
be  held  superior  to  an  equally  beautiful  landscape  or  imagina- 
tion, is  that  its  existence  would  ensure  greater  permanence  and 
frequency  in  our  emotional  contemplation  of  that  beauty. 
It  is,  indeed,  certain  that  the  chief  importance  of  most 
knowledge — of  the  truth  of  most  of  the  things  which  we 
believe — does,  in  this  world,  consist  in  its  extrinsic  advantages: 
it  is  immensely  valuable  as  a means. 

And  secondly,  (6)  it  may  be  the  case  that  the  existence 
of  that  which  we  contemplate  is  itself  a great  positive  good, 
so  that,  for  this  reason  alone,  the  state  of  things  described 
by  saying,  that  the  object  of  our  emotion  really  exists,  would  be 
intrinsically  superior  to  that  in  which  it  did  not.  This  reason 
for  superiority  is  undoubtedly  of  great  importance  in  the  case 
of  human  affections,  where  the  object  of  our  admiration  is  the 
mental  qualities  of  an  admirable  person  ; for  that  two  such 
admirable  persons  should  exist  is  greatly  better  than  that  there 
should  be  only  one : and  it  would  also  discriminate  the  admira- 
tion of  inanimate  nature  from  that  of  its  representations  in  art, 
in  so  far  as  we  may  allow  a small  intrinsic  value  to  the 
existence  of  a beautiful  object,  apart  from  any  contemplation 
of  it.  But  it  is  to  be  noticed  that  this  reason  would  not 
account  for  any  difference  in  value  between  the  cases  where  the 
truth  was  believed  and  that  in  which  it  was  merely  cognised, 
without  either  belief  or  disbelief  In  other  words,  so  far  as  this 
reason  goes,  the  difference  between  the  two  subdivisions  of  our 
second  class  (that  of  imaginative  contemplation)  would  be 
as  great  as  between  our  first  class  and  the  second  subdivision 
of  our  second.  The  superiority  of  the  mere  cognition  of  a 
beautiful  object,  when  that  object  also  happened  to  exist,  over 
the  same  cognition  when  the  object  did  not  exist,  would. 


VI] 


THE  IDEAL 


197 


on  this  count,  be  as  great  as  that  of  the  knowledge  of  a beautiful 
object  over  the  mere  imagination  of  it. 

119.  These  two  reasons  for  discriminating  between  the 
value  of  the  three  cases  we  are  considering,  must,  I say,  be 
carefully  distinguished  from  that,  of  which  I am  now  questioning 
the  validity,  if  we  are  to  obtain  a correct  answer  concerning  this 
latter.  The  question  I am  putting  is  this:  Whether  the  whole 
constituted  by  the  fact  that  there  is  an  emotional  contemplation 
of  a beautiful  object,  which  both  is  believed  to  be  and  is  real, 
does  not  derive  some  of  its  value  from  the  fact  that  the  object 
is  real  ? I am  asking  whether  the  value  of  this  whole,  as  a whole, 
is  not  greater  than  that  of  those  which  differ  from  it,  either  by 
the  absence  of  belief,  with  or  without  truth,  or,  belief  being 
present,  by  the  mere  absence  of  truth?  I am  not  asking  either 
whether  it  is  not  superior  to  them  as  a means  (which  it  certainly 
is),  nor  whether  it  may  not  contain  a more  valuable  part,  namely, 
the  existence  of  the  object  in  question.  My  question  is  solely 
whether  the  existence  of  its  object  does  not  constitute  an 
addition  to  the  value  of  the  whole,  quite  distinct  from  the 
addition  constituted  by  the  fact  that  this  whole  does  contain  a 
valuable  part. 

If,  now,  we  put  this  question,  I cannot  avoid  thinking  that 
it  should  receive  an  affirmative  answer.  We  can  put  it  clearly 
by  the  method  of  isolation;  and  the  sole  decision  must  rest  with 
our  reflective  judgment  upon  it,  as  thus  clearly  put.  We  can 
guard  against  the  bias  produced  by  a consideration  of  value 
as  a means  by  supposing  the  case  of  an  illusion  as  complete 
and  permanent  as  illusions  in  this  world  never  can  be.  We  can 
imagine  the  case  of  a single  person,  enjoying  throughout  eternity 
the  contemplation  of  scenery  as  beautiful,  and  intercourse  with 
persons  as  admirable,  as  can  be  imagined;  while  yet  the  whole 
of  the  objects  of  his  cognition  are  absolutely  unreal.  I think  we 
should  definitely  pronounce  the  existence  of  a universe,  which 
consisted  solely  of  such  a person,  to  be  greatly  inferior  in  value 
to  one  in  which  the  objects,  in  the  existence  of  which  he  believes, 
did  really  exist  just  as  he  believes  them  to  do;  and  that  it  would 
be  thus  inferior  not  only  because  it  would  lack  the  goods  which 
consist  in  the  existence  of  the  objects  in  question,  but  also 


198 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


merely  because  his  belief  would  be  false.  That  it  would  be 
inferior  for  this  reason  alone  follows  if  we  admit,  what  also 
appears  to  me  certain,  that  the  case  of  a person,  merely 
imagining,  without  believing,  the  beautiful  objects  in  question, 
would,  although  these  objects  really  existed,  be  yet  inferior  to  that 
of  the  person  who  also  believed  in  their  existence.  For  here 
all  the  additional  good,  which  consists  in  the  existence  of  the 
objects,  is  present,  and  yet  there  still  seems  to  be  a great 
difference  in  value  between  this  case  and  that  in  which  their 
existence  is  believed.  But  I think  that  my  conclusion  may 
perhaps  be  exhibited  in  a more  convincing  light  by  the  following 
considerations.  (1)  It  does  not  seem  to  me  that  the  small 
degree  of  value  which  we  may  allow  to  the  existence  of  beautiful 
inanimate  objects  is  nearly  equal  in  amount  to  the  difference 
which  I feel  that  there  is  between  the  appreciation  (accompanied 
by  belief)  of  such  objects,  when  they  really  exist,  and  the  purely 
imaginative  appreciation  of  them  when  they  do  not  exist. 
This  inequality  is  more  difficult  to  verify  where  the  object  is 
an  admirable  person,  since  a great  value  must  be  allowed  to  his 
existence.  But  yet  I think  it  is  not  paradoxical  to  maintain 
that  the  superiority  of  reciprocal  affection,  where  both  objects 
are  worthy  and  both  exist,  over  an  unreciprocated  affection, 
where  both  are  worthy  but  one  does  not  exist,  does  not  lie 
solely  in  the  fact  that,  in  the  former  case,  we  have  two  good 
things  instead  of  one,  but  also  in  the  fact  that  each  is  such  as 
the  other  believes  him  to  be.  (2)  It  seems  to  me  that  the 
important  contribution  to  value  made  by  true  belief  maybe  very 
plainly  seen  in  the  following  case.  Suppose  that  a worthy  object 
of  affection  does  really  exist  and  is  believed  to  do  so,  but  that 
there  enters  into  the  case  this  error  of  fact,  that  the  qualities 
loved,  though  exactly  like,  are  yet  not  the  same  which  really  do 
exist.  This  state  of  things  is  easily  imagined,  and  I think  we 
cannot  avoid  pronouncing  that,  although  both  persons  here  exist, 
it  is  yet  not  so  satisfactory  as  where  the  very  person  loved  and 
believed  to  exist  is  also  the  one  which  actually  does  exist. 

120.  If  all  this  be  so,  we  have,  in  this  third  section,  added 
to  our  two  former  results  the  third  result  that  a true  belief  in 
the  reality  of  an  object  greatly  increases  the  value  of  many 


VI] 


THE  IDEAL 


199 


valuable  wholes.  Just  as  in  sections  (1)  and  (2)  it  was  main- 
tained that  aesthetic  and  afifectionate  emotions  had  little  or  no 
value  apart  from  the  cognition  of  appropriate  objects,  and  that 
the  cognition  of  these  objects  had  little  or  no  value  apart  from 
the  appropriate  emotion,  so  that  the  whole,  in  which  both  were 
combined,  had  a value  greatly  in  excess  of  the  sum  of  the 
values  of  its  parts;  so,  according  to  this  section,  if  there  be 
added  to  these  wholes  a true  belief  in  the  reality  of  the  object, 
the  new  whole  thus  formed  has  a value  greatly  in  excess  of  the 
sum  obtained  by  adding  the  value  of  the  true  belief,  considered 
in  itself,  to  that  of  our  original  wholes.  This  new  case  only 
differs  from  the  former  in  this,  that,  whereas  the  true  belief,  by 
itself,  has  quite  as  little  value  as  either  of  the  two  other 
constituents  taken  singly,  yet  they,  taken  together,  seem  to  form 
a whole  of  very  great  value,  whereas  this  is  not  the  case  with 
the  two  wholes  which  might  be  formed  by  adding  the  true 
belief  to  either  of  the  others. 

The  importance  of  the  result  of  this  section  seems  to  lie 
mainly  in  two  of  its  consequences.  (1)  That  it  affords  some 
justification  for  the  immense  intrinsic  value,  which  seems  to  be 
commonly  attributed  to  the  mere  knowledge  of  some  truths, 
and  w'hich  was  expressly  attributed  to  some  kinds  of  knowledge 
by  Plato  and  Aristotle.  Perfect  knowledge  has  indeed  competed 
with  perfect  love  for  the  position  of  Ideal.  If  the  results  of  this 
section  are  correct,  it  appears  that  knowledge,  though  having 
little  or  no  value  by  itself,  is  an  absolutely  essential  constituent 
in  the  highest  goods,  and  contributes  immensely  to  their  value. 
And  it  appears  that  this  function  may  be  performed  not  only 
by  that  case  of  knowledge,  which  we  have  chiefly  considered, 
namely,  knowledge  of  the  reality  of  the  beautiful  object  cognised, 
but  also  by  knowledge  of  the  numerical  identity  of  this  object 
with  that  which  really  exists,  and  by  the  knowledge  that  the 
existence  of  that  object  is  truly  good.  Indeed  all  knowledge, 
which  is  directly  concerned  with  the  nature  of  the  constituents 
of  a beautiful  object,  would  seem  capable  of  adding  greatly  to 
the  value  of  the  contemplation  of  that  object,  although,  by 
itself,  such  knowledge  would  have  no  value  at  all. — And  (2)  The 
second  important  consequence,  which  follows  from  this  section. 


200 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


is  that  the  presence  of  true  belief  may,  in  spite  of  a great 
inferiority  in  the  value  of  the  emotion  and  the  beauty  of  its 
object,  constitute  with  them  a whole  equal  or  superior  in  value 
to  wholes,  in  which  the  emotion  and  beauty  are  superior,  but 
in  which  a true  belief  is  wanting  or  a false  belief  present.  In 
this  way  we  may  justify  the  attribution  of  equal  or  superior 
value  to  an  appreciation  of  an  inferior  real  object,  as  compared 
with  the  appreciation  of  a greatly  superior  object  which  is  a 
mere  creature  of  the  imagination.  Thus  a just  appreciation  of 
nature  and  of  real  persons  may  maintain  its  equality  with  an 
equally  just  appreciation  of  the  products  of  artistic  imagination, 
in  spite  of  much  greater  beauty  in  the  latter.  And  similarly 
though  God  may  be  admitted  to  be  a more  perfect  object  than 
any  actual  human  being,  the  love  of  God  may  yet  be  inferior  to 
human  love,  if  God  does  not  exist. 

121.  (4)  In  order  to  complete  the  discussion  of  this  first 

class  of  goods — goods  which  have  an  essential  reference  to 
beautiful  objects — it  would  be  necessary  to  attempt  a classi- 
fication and  comparative  valuation  of  all  the  different  forms  of 
beauty,  a task  which  properly  belongs  to  the  study  called 
Aesthetics.  I do  not,  however,  propose  to  attempt  any  part 
of  this  task.  It  must  only  be  understood  that  I intend  to 
include  among  the  essential  constituents  of  the  goods  I have 
been  discussing,  every  form  and  variety  of  beautiful  object,  if 
only  it  be  truly  beautiful ; and,  if  this  be  understood,  I think 
it  may  be  seen  that  the  consensus  of  opinion  with  regard  to 
what  is  positively  beautiful  and  what  is  positively  ugly,  and 
even  with  regard  to  great  differences  in  degree  of  beauty,  is 
quite  sufficient  to  allow  us  a hope  that  we  need  not  greatly  err 
in  our  judgments  of  good  and  evil.  In  anything  which  is 
thought  beautiful  by  any  considerable  number  of  persons,  there 
is  probably  some  beautiful  quality;  and  differences  of  opinion 
seem  to  be  far  more  often  due  to  exclusive  attention,  on  the 
part  of  different  persons,  to  different  qualities  in  the  same 
object,  than  to  the  positive  error  of  supposing  a quality  that 
is  ugly  to  be  really  beautiful.  When  an  object,  which  some 
think  beautiful,  is  denied  to  be  so  by  others,  the  truth  is 
usually  that  it  lacks  some  beautiful  quality  or  is  deformed  by 


VI] 


THE  IDEAL 


201 


some  ugly  one,  which  engage  the  exclusive  attention  of  the 
critics. 

I may,  however,  state  two  general  principles,  closely  con- 
nected with  the  results  of  this  chapter,  the  recognition  of  which 
would  seem  to  be  of  great  importance  for  the  investigation  of 
what  things  are  truly  beautiful.  The  first  of  these  is  (1)  a 
definition  of  beauty,  of  what  is  meant  by  saying  that  a thing 
is  truly  beautiful.  The  naturalistic  fallacy  has  been  quite  as 
commonly  committed  with  regard  to  beauty  as  with  regard  to 
good : its  use  has  introduced  as  many  errors  into  Aesthetics  as 
into  Ethics.  It  has  been  even  more  commonly  supposed  that 
the  beautiful  may  be  defoied  as  that  which  produces  certain 
effects  upon  our  feelings ; and  the  conclusion  which  folloAvs  from 
this — namely,  that  judgments  of  taste  are  merely  subjective — that 
precisely  the  same  thing  may,  according  to  circumstances,  be 
both  beautiful  and  not  beautiful — has  very  frequently  been  drawn. 
The  conclusions  of  this  chapter  suggest  a definition  of  beauty, 
which  may  partially  explain  and  entirely  remove  the  difficulties 
which  have  led  to  this  error.  It  appears  probable  that  the 
beautiful  should  be  defined  as  that  of  which  the  admiring  con- 
templation is  good  in  itself.  That  is  to  say : To  assert  that 
a thing  is  beautiful  is  to  assert  that  the  cognition  of  it  is  an 
essential  element  in  one  of  the  intrinsically  valuable  wholes  we 
have  been  discussing;  so  that  the  question,  whether  it  is  truly 
beautiful  or  not,  depends  upon  the  objective  question  whether 
the  whole  in  question  is  or  is  not  truly  good,  and  does  not 
depend  upon  the  question  whether  it  would  or  would  not  excite 
particular  feelings  in  particular  persons.  This  definition  has 
the  double  recommendation  that  it  accounts  both  for  the 
apparent  connection  between  goodness  and  beauty  and  for  the 
no  less  apparent  difference  between  these  two  conceptions.  It 
appears,  at  first  sight,  to  be  a strange  coincidence,  that  there 
should  be  two  different  objective  predicates  of  value,  ‘good’  and 
‘beautiful,’  which  are  nevertheless  so  related  to  one  another 
that  whatever  is  beautiful  is  also  good.  But,  if  our  definition 
be  correct,  the  strangeness  disappears ; since  it  leaves  only  one 
unanalysable  predicate  of  value,  namely  ‘ good,’  while  ‘ beautiful,’ 
though  not  identical  with,  is  to  be  defined  by  reference  to  this, 


202 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


being  thus,  at  the  same  time,  different  from  and  necessarily 
connected  with  it.  In  short,  on  this  view,  to  say  that  a thing  is 
beautiful  is  to  say,  not  indeed  that  it  is  itself  good,  but  that  it 
is  a necessary  element  in  something  which  is : to  prove  that  a 
thing  is  truly  beautiful  is  to  prove  that  a whole,  to  which  it 
bears  a particular  relation  as  a part,  is  truly  good.  And  in  this 
way  we  should  explain  the  immense  predominance,  among 
objects  commonly  considered  beautiful,  of  material  objects — 
objects  of  the  external  senses;  since  these  objects,  though 
themselves  having,  as  has  been  said,  little  or  no  intrinsic  value, 
are  yet  essential  constituents  in  the  largest  group  of  wholes 
which  have  intrinsic  value.  These  wholes  themselves  may  be, 
and  are,  also  beautiful ; but  the  comparative  rarity,  with  which  we 
regard  them  as  themselves  objects  of  contemplation,  seems  suffi- 
cient to  explain  the  association  of  beauty  with  external  objects. 

And  secondly  (2)  it  is  to  be  observed  that  beautiful  objects 
are  themselves,  for  the  most  part,  organic  unities,  in  this  sense, 
that  they  are  wholes  of  great  complexity,  such  that  the  con- 
templation of  any  part,  by  itself,  may  have  no  value,  and  yet 
that,  unless  the  contemplation  of  the  whole  includes  the  con- 
templation of  that  part,  it  will  lose  in  value.  From  this  it  follows 
that  there  can  be  no  single  criterion  of  beauty.  It  will  never  be 
true  to  say : This  object  owes  its  beauty  solely  to  the  presence 
of  this  characteristic  ; nor  yet  that : Wherever  this  characteristic 
is  present,  the  object  must  be  beautiful.  All  that  can  be  true 
is  that  certain  objects  are  beautiful,  because  they  have  certain 
characteristics,  in  the  sense  that  they  would  not  be  beautiful 
unless  they  had  them.  And  it  may  be  possible  to  find  that 
certain  characteristics  are  more  or  less  universally  present  in 
all  beautiful  objects,  and  are,  in  this  sense,  more  or  less  important 
conditions  of  beauty.  But  it  is  important  to  observe  that  the 
very  qualities,  which  differentiate  one  beautiful  object  from  all 
others,  are,  if  the  object  be  truly  beautiful,  as  essential  to  its 
beauty,  as  those  which  it  has  in  common  with  ever  so  many 
others.  The  object  would  no  more  have  the  beauty  it  has, 
without  its  specific  qualities,  than  without  those  that  are 
generic ; and  the  generic  qualities,  by  themselves,  would  fail,  as 
completely,  to  give  beauty,  as  those  which  are  specific. 


VI] 


THE  IDEAL 


203 


122.  II.  It  will  be  remembered  that  I began  this  survey 
of  great  unmixed  goods,  by  dividing  all  the  greatest  goods  we 
know  into  the  two  classes  of  aesthetic  enjoyments,  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  pleasures  of  human  intercourse  or  of  personal 
affection,  on  the  other.  I postponed  the  consideration  of  the 
latter  on  the  ground  that  they  presented  additional  complications 
In  what  this  additional  complication  consists,  will  now  be 
evident ; and  I have  already  been  obliged  to  take  account  of  it, 
in  discussing  the  contribution  to  value  made  by  true  belief.  It 
consists  in  the  fact  that  in  the  case  of  personal  affection,  the 
object  itself  is  not  merely  beautiful,  while  possessed  of  little  or 
no  intrinsic  value,  but  is  itself,  in  part  at  least,  of  great  intrinsic 
value.  All  the  constituents  which  we  have  found  to  be 
necessary  to  the  most  valuable  aesthetic  enjoyments,  namely, 
appropriate  emotion,  cognition  of  truly  beautiful  qualities,  and 
true  belief,  are  equally  necessary  here  ; but  here  we  have  the 
additional  fact  that  the  object  must  be  not  only  truly  beautiful, 
but  also  truly  good  in  a high  degree. 

It  is  evident  that  this  additional  complication  only  occurs  in 
so  far  as  there  is  included  in  the  object  of  personal  affection 
some  of  the  mental  qualities  of  the  person  towards  whom  the 
affection  is  felt.  And  I think  it  may  be  admitted  that, 
wherever  the  affection  is  most  valuable,  the  appreciation  of 
mental  qualities  must  form  a large  part  of  it,  and  that  the 
presence  of  this  part  makes  the  whole  far  more  valuable  than  it 
could  have  been  without  it.  But  it  seems  very  doubtful 
whether  this  appreciation,  by  itself,  can  possess  as  much  value 
as  the  whole  in  which  it  is  combined  with  an  appreciation  of 
the  appropriate  corporeal  expression  of  the  mental  qualities  in 
question.  It  is  certain  that  in  all  actual  cases  of  valuable 
affection,  the  bodily  expressions  of  character,  whether  by  looks, 
by  words,  or  by  actions,  do  form  a part  of  the  object  towards 
which  the  affection  is  felt,  and  that  the  fact  of  their  inclusion 
appears  to  heighten  the  value  of  the  whole  state.  It  is,  indeed, 
very  difScult  to  imagine  what  the  cognition  of  mental  qualities 
alone,  unaccompanied  by  any  corporeal  expression,  would  be 
like ; and,  in  so  far  as  we  succeed  in  making  this  abstraction, 
the  whole  considered  certainly  appears  to  have  less  valua  I 


8-a 


204 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


therefore  conclude  that  the  importance  of  an  admiration  of 
admirable  mental  qualities  lies  chiefly  in  the  immense  superiority 
of  a whole,  in  which  it  forms  a part,  to  one  in  which  it  is  absent, 
and  not  in  any  high  degree  of  intrinsic  value  which  it  possesses 
by  itself.  It  even  appears  to  be  doubtful,  whether,  in  itself,  it 
possesses  so  much  value  as  the  appreciation  of  mere  corporeal 
beauty  undoubtedly  does  possess ; that  is  to  say,  whether  the 
appreciation  of  what  has  great  intrinsic  value  is  so  valuable  as 
the  appreciation  of  what  is  merely  beautiful. 

But  further  if  we  consider  the  nature  of  admirable  mental 
qualities,  by  themselves,  it  appears  that  a proper  appreciation  of 
them  involves  a reference  to  purely  material  beauty  in  yet 
another  way.  Admirable  mental  qualities  do,  if  our  previous 
conclusions  are  correct,  consist  very  largely  in  an  emotional 
contemplation  of  beautiful  objects ; and  hence  the  appreciation 
of  them  will  consist  essentially  in  the  contemplation  of  such 
contemplation.  It  is  true  that  the  most  valuable  appreciation 
of  persons  appears  to  be  that  which  consists  in  the  appreciation 
of  their  appreciation  of  other  persons  : but  even  here  a reference 
to  material  beauty  appears  to  be  involved,  both  in  respect  of  the 
fact  that  what  is  appreciated  in  the  last  instance  may  be  the 
contemplation  of  what  is  merely  beautiful,  and  in  respect  of  the 
fact  that  the  most  valuable  appreciation  of  a person  appears  to 
include  an  appreciation  of  his  corporeal  expression.  Though, 
therefore,  we  may  admit  that  the  appreciation  of  a person’s 
attitude  towards  other  persons,  or,  to  take  one  instance,  the  love 
of  love,  is  far  the  most  valuable  good  we  know,  and  far  more 
valuable  than  the  mere  love  of  beauty,  yet  we  can  only  admit 
this  if  the  first  be  understood  to  include  the  latter,  in  various 
degrees  of  directness. 

With  regard  to  the  question  what  are  the  mental  qualities 
of  which  the  cognition  is  essential  to  the  value  of  human  inter- 
course, it  is  plain  that  they  include,  in  the  first  place,  all  those 
varieties  of  aesthetic  appreciation,  which  formed  our  first  class 
of  goods.  They  include,  therefore,  a great  variety  of  different 
emotions,  each  of  which  is  appropriate  to  some  different  kind  of 
beauty.  But  we  must  now  add  to  these  the  whole  range  of 
emotions,  which  are  appropriate  to  persons,  and  which  are 


THE  IDEAL 


205 


VI] 

different  from  those  which  are  appropriate  to  mere  corporeal 
beauty.  It  must  also  be  remembered  that  just  as  these  emotions 
have  little  value  in  themselves,  and  as  the  state  of  mind  in 
which  they  exist  may  have  its  value  greatly  heightened,  or  may 
entirely  lose  it  and  become  positively  evil  in  a great  degree, 
according  as  the  cognitions  accompanying  the  emotions  are 
appropriate  or  inappropriate ; so  too  the  appreciation  of  these 
emotions,  though  it  may  have  some  value  in  itself,  may  yet  form 
part  of  a whole  which  has  far  greater  value  or  no  value  at  all, 
according  as  it  is  or  is  not  accompanied  by  a perception  of  the 
appropriateness  of  the  emotions  to  their  objects.  It  is  obvious, 
therefore,  that  the  study  of  what  is  valuable  in  human  inter- 
course is  a study  of  immense  complexity ; and  that  there  may 
be  much  human  intercourse  which  has  little  or  no  value,  or  is 
positively  bad.  Yet  here  too,  as  with  the  question  what  is 
beautiful,  there  seems  no  reason  to  doubt  that  a reflective 
judgment  will  in  the  main  decide  correctly  both  as  to  what  are 
positive  goods  and  even  as  to  any  great  differences  in  value 
between  these  goods.  In  particular,  it  may  be  remarked  that 
the  emotions,  of  which  the  contemplation  is  essential  to  the 
greatest  values,  and  which  are  also  themselves  appropriately 
excited  by  such  contemplation,  appear  to  be  those  which  are 
commonly  most  highly  prized  under  the  name  of  affection. 

123.  I have  now  completed  my  examination  into  the  nature 
of  those  great  positive  goods,  which  do  not  appear  to  include 
among  their  constituents  anything  positively  evil  or  ugly,  though 
they  include  much  which  is  in  itself  indifferent.  And  I wish 
to  point  out  certain  conclusions  which  appear  to  follow,  with 
regard  to  the  nature  of  the  Summum  Bonum,  or  that  state  of 
things  which  would  be  the  most  perfect  we  can  conceive.  Those 
idealistic  philosophers,  whose  views  agree  most  closely  with 
those  here  advocated,  in  that  they  deny  pleasure  to  be  the  sole 
good  and  regard  what  is  completely  good  as  having  some 
complexity,  have  usually  represented  a purely  spiritual  state 
of  existence  as  the  Ideal.  Regarding  matter  as  essentially 
imperfect,  if  not  positively  evil,  they  have  concluded  that  the 
total  absence  of  all  material  properties  is  necessary  to  a state 
of  perfection.  Now,  according  to  what  has  been  said,  this  view 


206 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


would  be  correct  so  far  as  it  asserts  that  any  great  good  must 
be  mental,  and  so  far  as  it  asserts  that  a purely  material 
existence,  hy  itself,  can  have  little  or  no  value.  The  superiority 
of  the  spiritual  over  the  material  has,  in  a sense,  been  amply 
vindicated.  But  it  does  not  follow,  from  this  superiority,  that 
a perfect  state  of  things  must  be  one,  from  which  all  material 
properties  are  rigidly  excluded:  on  the  contrary,  if  our  conclusions 
are  correct,  it  would  seem  to  be  the  case  that  a state  of  things, 
in  which  they  are  included,  must  be  vastly  better  than  any 
conceivable  state  in  which  they  were  absent.  In  order  to  see 
that  this  is  so,  the  chief  thing  necessary  to  be  considered  is 
exactly  what  it  is  which  we  declare  to  be  good  when  we  declare 
that  the  appreciation  of  beauty  in  Art  and  Nature  is  so.  That 
this  appreciation  is  good,  the  philosophers  in  question  do  not 
for  the  most  part  deny.  But,  if  we  admit  it,  then  we  should 
remember  Butler’s  maxim  that : Everything  is  what  it  is,  and 
not  another  thing.  I have  tried  to  shew,  and  I think  it  is  too 
evident  to  be  disputed,  that  such  appreciation  is  an  organic 
unity,  a complex  whole ; and  that,  in  its  most  undoubted 
instances,  part  of  what  is  included  in  this  whole  is  a cognition 
of  material  qualities,  and  particularly  of  a vast  variety  of  what 
are  called  secondary  qualities.  If,  then,  it  is  this  whole,  which 
we  know  to  be  good,  and  not  another  thing,  then  we  know  that 
material  qualities,  even  though  they  be  perfectly  worthless  in 
themselves,  are  yet  essential  constituents  of  what  is  far  from 
worthless.  What  we  know  to  be  valuable  is  the  apprehension 
of  just  these  qualities,  and  not  of  any  others ; and,  if  we  propose 
to  subtract  them  from  it,  then  what  we  have  left  is  not  that 
which  we  know  to  have  value,  but  something  else.  And  it  must 
be  noticed  that  this  conclusion  holds,  even  if  my  contention, 
that  a true  belief  in  the  existence  of  these  qualities  adds  to  the 
value  of  the  whole  in  which  it  is  included,  be  disputed.  We 
should  then,  indeed,  be  entitled  to  assert  that  the  existence  of  a 
material  world  was  wholly  immaterial  to  perfection ; but  the 
fact  that  what  we  knew  to  be  good  was  a cognition  of  material 
qualities  (though  purely  imaginary),  would  still  remain.  It 
must,  then,  be  admitted  on  pain  of  self-contradiction — on  pain 
of  holding  that  things  are  not  what  they  are,  but  something  else 


VIJ 


THE  IDEAL 


207 


— that  a world,  from  which  material  qualities  were  wholly 
banished,  would  be  a world  which  lacked  many,  if  not  all,  of 
those  things,  which  we  know  most  certainly  to  be  great  goods. 
That  it  might  nevertheless  be  a far  better  world  than  one  which 
retained  these  goods,  I have  already  admitted  (§111  (1)).  But 
in  order  to  shew  that  any  such  world  would  be  thus  better,  it 
would  be  necessary  to  shew  that  the  retention  of  these  things, 
though  good  in  themselves,  impaired,  in  a more  than  equal 
degree,  the  value  of  some  whole,  to  which  they  might  belong ; 
and  the  task  of  shewing  this  has  certainly  never  been  attempted. 
Until  it  be  performed,  we  are  entitled  to  assert  that  material 
qualities  are  a necessary  constituent  of  the  Ideal ; that,  though 
something  utterly  unknown  might  be  better  than  any  world 
containing  either  them  or  any  other  good  we  know,  yet  we  have 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  anything  whatever  would  be  better 
than  a state  of  things  in  which  they  were  included.  To  deny 
and  exclude  matter,  is  to  deny  and  exclude  the  best  we  know. 
That  a thing  may  retain  its  value,  while  losing  some  of  its 
qualities,  is  utterly  untrue.  All  that  is  true  is  that  the  changed 
thing  may  have  more  value  than,  or  as  much  value  as,  that  of 
which  the  qualities  have  been  lost.  What  I contend  is  that 
nothing,  which  we  know  to  be  good  and  which  contains  no 
material  qualities,  has  such  great  value  that  we  can  declare  it, 
hy  itself,  to  be  superior  to  the  whole  which  would  be  formed  by 
the  addition  to  it  of  an  appreciation  of  material  qualities.  That 
a purely  spiritual  good  may  be  the  best  of  single  things,  I am 
not  much  concerned  to  dispute,  although,  in  what  has  been 
said  with  regard  to  the  nature  of  personal  affection,  I have 
given  reasons  for  doubting  it.  But  that  by  adding  to  it  some 
appreciation  of  material  qualities,  which,  though  perhaps  inferior 
by  itself,  is  certainly  a great  positive  good,  we  should  obtain  a 
greater  sum  of  value,  which  no  cori'esponding  decrease  in  the 
value  of  the  whole,  as  a whole,  could  counterbalance — this, 
I maintain,  we  have  certainly  no  reason  to  doubt. 

124.  In  order  to  complete  this  discussion  of  the  main 
principles  involved  in  the  determination  of  intrinsic  values,  the 
chief  remaining  topics,  necessary  to  be  treated,  appear  to  be 
two.  The  first  of  these  is  the  nature  of  great  intrinsic  evils, 


208 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


including  what  I may  call  mixed  evils;  that  is  to  say,  those  evil 
wholes,  which  nevertheless  contain,  as  essential  elements,  some- 
thing positively  good  or  beautiful.  And  the  second  is  the  nature 
of  what  I may  similarly  call  mixed  goods ; that  is  to  say,  those 
wholes,  which,  though  intrinsically  good  as  wholes,  nevertheless 
contain,  as  essential  elements,  something  positively  evil  or  ugly. 
It  will  greatly  facilitate  this  discussion,  if  I may  be  understood 
throughout  to  use  the  terms  ‘beautiful’  and  ‘ ugly,’  not  necessarily 
with  reference  to  things  of  the  kind  which  most  naturally  occur 
to  us  as  instances  of  what  is  beautiful  and  ugly,  but  in  accordance 
with  my  own  proposed  definition  of  beauty.  Thus  I shall  use 
the  word  ‘ beautiful  ’ to  denote  that  of  which  the  admiring 
contemplation  is  good  in  itself ; and  ‘ ugly  ’ to  denote  that  of 
which  the  admiring  contemplation  is  evil  in  itself. 

I.  With  regard,  then,  to  great  positive  evils,  I think  it  is 
evident  that,  if  we  take  all  due  precautions  to  discover  precisely 
what  those  things  are,  of  which,  if  they  existed  absolutely  by 
themselves,  we  should  judge  the  existence  to  be  a great  evil,  we 
shall  find  most  of  them  to  be  organic  unities  of  exactly  the 
same  nature  as  those  which  are  the  greatest  positive  goods. 
That  is  to  say,  they  are  cognitions  of  some  object,  accompanied 
by  some  emotion.  Just  as  neither  a cognition  nor  an  emotion, 
by  itself,  appeared  capable  of  being  greatly  good,  so  (with  one 
exception),  neither  a cognition  nor  an  emotion,  by  itself,  appears 
capable  of  being  greatly  evil.  And  just  as  a whole  formed  of 
both,  even  without  the  addition  of  any  other  element,  appeared 
undoubtedly  capable  of  being  a great  good,  so  such  a whole,  by 
itself,  appears  capable  of  being  a great  evil.  With  regard  to 
the  third  element,  which  was  discussed  as  capable  of  adding 
greatly  to  the  value  of  a good,  namely,  true  belief,  it  will  appear 
that  it  has  different  relations  towards  different  kinds  of  evils. 
In  some  cases  the  addition  of  true  belief  to  a positive  evil 
seems  to  constitute  a far  worse  evil;  but  in  other  cases  it  is  not 
apparent  that  it  makes  any  difference. 

The  greatest  positive  evils  may  be  divided  into  the  following 
three  classes. 

125.  (1)  The  first  class  consists  of  those  evils,  which  seem 

always  to  include  an  enjoyment  or  admiring  contemplation  of 


VI] 


THE  IDEAL 


209 


things  which  are  themselves  either  evil  or  ugly.  That  is  to  say 
these  evils  are  characterised  by  the  fact  that  they  include  precisely 
the  same  emotion,  which  is  also  essential  to  the  greatest  unmixed 
goods,  from  which  they  are  differentiated  by  the  fact  that  this 
emotion  is  directed  towards  an  inappropriate  object.  In  so  far 
as  this  emotion  is  either  a slight  good  in  itself  or  a slightly 
beautiful  object,  these  evils  would  therefore  be  cases  of  what 
I have  called  ‘mixed’  evils;  but,  as  I have  already  said,  it  seems 
very  doubtful  whether  an  emotion,  completely  isolated  from  its 
object,  has  either  value  or  beauty : it  certainly  has  not  much  of 
either.  It  is,  however,  important  to  observe  that  the  very  same 
emotions,  which  are  often  loosely  talked  of  as  the  greatest  or 
the  only  goods,  may  be  essential  constituents  of  the  very  worst 
wholes:  that,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  cognition  which 
accompanies  them,  they  may  be  conditions  either  of  the  greatest 
good,  or  of  the  greatest  evil. 

In  order  to  illustrate  the  nature  of  evils  of  this  class,  I may 
take  two  instances — cruelty  and  lasciviousness.  That  these  are 
great  intrinsic  evils,  we  may,  I think,  easily  assure  ourselves,  by 
imagining  the  state  of  a man,  whose  mind  is  solely  occupied  by 
either  of  these  passions,  in  their  worst  form.  If  we  then  consider 
what  judgment  we  should  pass  upon  a universe  which  consisted 
solely  of  minds  thus  occupied,  without  the  smallest  hope  that 
there  would  ever  exist  in  it  the  smallest  consciousness  of  any 
object  other  than  those  proper  to  these  passions,  or  any  feeling 
directed  to  any  such  object,  I think  we  cannot  avoid  the 
conclusion  that  the  existence  of  such  a universe  would  be  a 
far  worse  evil  than  the  existence  of  none  at  all.  But,  if  this  be 
so,  it  follows  that  these  two  vicious  states  are  not  only,  as  is 
commonly  admitted,  bad  as  means,  but  also  bad  in  themselves. 
— And  that  they  involve  in  their  nature  that  complication  of 
elements,  which  I have  called  a love  of  what  is  evil  or  ugly,  is, 
I think,  no  less  plain.  With  regard  to  the  pleasures  of  lust,  the 
nature  of  the  cognition,  by  the  presence  of  which  they  are  to 
be  defined,  is  somewhat  difficult  to  analyse.  But  it  appears  to 
include  both  cognitions  of  organic  sensations  and  perceptions  of 
states  of  the  body,  of  which  the  enjoyment  is  certainly  an  evil 
in  itself.  So  far  as  these  are  concerned,  lasciviousness  would, 


210 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


then,  include  in  its  essence  an  admiring  contemplation  of  what 
is  ugly.  But  certainly  one  of  its  commonest  ingredients,  in  its 
worst  forms,  is  an  enjoyment  of  the  same  state  of  mind  in  other 
people:  and  in  this  case  it  would  therefore  also  include  a love 
of  what  is  evil.  With  regard  to  cruelty,  it  is  easy  to  see  that 
an  enjoyment  of  pain  in  other  people  is  essential  to  it;  and,  as 
we  shall  see,  when  we  come  to  consider  pain,  this  is  certainly  a 
love  of  evil : while,  in  so  far  as  it  also  includes  a delight  in  the 
bodily  signs  of  agony,  it  would  also  comprehend  a love  of  what 
is  ugly.  In  both  cases,  it  should  be  observed,  the  evil  of  the 
state  is  heightened  not  only  by  an  increase  in  the  evil  or  ugliness 
of  the  object,  but  also  by  an  increase  in  the  enjoyment. 

It  might  be  objected,  in  the  case  of  cruelty,  that  our  dis- 
approval of  it,  even  in  the  isolated  case  supposed,  where  no 
considerations  of  its  badness  as  a means  could  influence  us,  may 
yet  be  really  directed  to  the  pain  of  the  persons,  which  it  takes 
delight  in  contemplating.  This  objection  may  be  met,  in  the 
first  place,  by  the  remark  that  it  entirely  fails  to  explain  the 
judgment,  which  yet,  I think,  no  one,  on  reflection,  will  be  able 
to  avoid  making,  that  even  though  the  amount  of  pain  con- 
templated be  the  same,  yet  the  greater  the  delight  in  its 
contemplation,  the  worse  the  state  of  things.  But  it  may  also, 
I think,  be  met  by  notice  of  a fact,  which  we  were  unable  to 
urge  in  considering  the  similar  possibility  with  regard  to  goods 
— namely  the  possibility  that  the  reason  why  we  attribute 
greater  value  to  a worthy  affection  for  a real  person,  is  that  we 
take  into  account  the  additional  good  consisting  in  the  existence 
of  that  person.  We  may  I think  urge,  in  the  case  of  cruelty, 
that  its  intrinsic  odiousness  is  equally  great,  whether  the  pain 
contemplated  really  exists  or  is  purely  imaginary.  I,  at  least, 
am  unable  to  distinguish  that,  in  this  case,  the  presence  of  true 
belief  makes  any  difference  to  the  intrinsic  value  of  the  whole 
considered,  although  it  undoubtedly  may  make  a great  differ- 
ence to  its  value  as  a means.  And  so  also  with  regard  to  other 
evils  of  this  class : I am  unable  to  see  that  a true  belief  in  the 
existence  of  their  objects  makes  any  difference  in  the  degree  of 
their  positive  demerits.  On  the  other  hand,  the  presence  of 
another  class  of  beliefs  seems  to  make  a considerable  difference. 


VI] 


THE  IDEAL 


211 


When  we  enjoy  what  is  evil  or  ugly,  in  spite  of  our  knowledge 
that  it  is  so,  the  state  of  things  seems  considerably  worse  than 
if  we  made  no  judgment  at  all  as  to  the  object’s  value.  And 
the  same  seems  also,  strangely  enough,  to  be  the  case  when  we 
make  a false  judgment  of  value.  When  we  admire  what  is 
ugly  or  evil,  believing  that  it  is  beautiful  and  good,  this  belief 
seems  also  to  enhance  the  intrinsic  vileness  of  our  condition. 
It  must,  of  course,  be  understood  that,  in  both  these  cases,  the 
judgment  in  question  is  merely  what  I have  called  a judgment 
of  taste;  that  is  to  say,  it  is  concerned  with  the  worth  of  the 
qualities  actually  cognised  and  not  with  the  worth  of  the 
object,  to  which  those  qualities  may  be  rightly  or  wrongly 
attributed. 

Finally  it  should  be  mentioned  that  evils  of  this  class,  beside 
that  emotional  element  (namely  enjoyment  and  admiration) 
which  they  share  with  great  unmixed  goods,  appear  always  also 
to  include  some  specific  emotion,  which  does  not  enter  in  the 
same  way  into  the  constitution  of  any  good.  The  presence  of 
this  specific  emotion  seems  certainly  to  enhance  the  badness  of 
the  whole,  though  it  is  not  plain  that,  by  itself,  it  would  be 
either  evil  or  ugly. 

126.  (2)  The  second  class  of  great  evils  are  undoubtedly 
mixed  evils;  but  I treat  them  next,  because,  in  a certain  respect, 
they  appear  to  be  the  converse  of  the  class  last  considered. 
Just  as  it  is  essential  to  this  last  class  that  they  should  include 
an  emotion,  appropriate  to  the  cognition  of  what  is  good  or 
beautiful,  but  directed  to  an  inappropriate  object;  so  to  this 
second  class  it  is  essential  that  they  should  include  a cognition 
of  what  is  good  or  beautiful,  but  accompanied  by  an  inappro- 
priate emotion.  In  short,  just  as  the  last  class  may  be  described 
as  cases  of  the  love  of  what  is  evil  or  ugly,  so  this  class 
may  be  described  as  cases  of  the  hatred  of  what  is  good  or 
beautiful. 

With  regard  to  these  evils  it  should  be  remarked:  First, 
that  the  vices  of  hatred,  envy  and  contempt,  where  these  vices 
are  evil  in  themselves,  appear  to  be  instances  of  them;  and 
that  they  are  frequently  accompanied  by  evils  of  the  first  class, 
for  example,  where  a delight  is  felt  in  the  pain  of  a good  person. 


212  THE  IDEAL  [CHAP. 

Where  they  are  thus  accompanied,  the  whole  thus  formed  is 
undoubtedly  worse  than  if  either  existed  singly. 

And  secondly:  That  in  their  case  a true  belief  in  the  exist- 
ence of  the  good  or  beautiful  object,  which  is  hated,  does  appear 
to  enhance  the  badness  of  the  whole,  in  which  it  is  present. 
Undoubtedly  also,  as  in  our  first  class,  the  presence  of  a true 
belief  as  to  the  value  of  the  objects  contemplated,  increases  the 
evil.  But,  contrary  to  what  was  the  case  in  our  first  class,  a 
false  judgment  of  value  appears  to  lessen  it. 

127.  (3)  The  third  class  of  great  positive  evils  appears  to 
be  the  class  oi  pains. 

With  regard  to  these  it  should  first  be  remarked  that,  as  in 
the  case  of  pleasure,  it  is  not  pain  itself,  but  only  the  conscious- 
ness of  pain,  towards  which  our  judgments  of  value  are  directed. 
Just  as  in  Chap.  III.,  it  was  said  that  pleasure,  however  intense, 
which  no  one  felt,  would  be  no  good  at  all;  so  it  appears  that 
pain,  however  intense,  of  which  there  was  no  consciousness,  would 
be  no  evil  at  all. 

It  is,  therefore,  only  the  consciousness  of  intense  pain,  which 
can  be  maintained  to  be  a great  evil.  But  that  this,  by  itself, 
may  be  a great  evil,  I cannot  avoid  thinking.  The  case  of  pain 
thus  seems  to  differ  from  that  of  pleasure:  for  the  mere  con- 
sciousness of  pleasure,  however  intense,  does  not,  by  itself,  appear 
to  be  a great  good,  even  if  it  has  some  slight  intrinsic  value. 
In  short,  pain  (if  we  understand  by  this  expression,  the  con- 
sciousness of  pain)  appears  to  be  a far  worse  evil  than  pleasure 
is  a good.  But,  if  this  be  so,  then  pain  must  be  admitted  to 
be  an  exception  from  the  rule  which  seems  to  hold  both  of  all 
other  great  evils  and  of  all  great  goods:  namely  that  they  are 
all  organic  unities  to  which  both  a cognition  of  an  object  and 
an  emotion  directed  towards  that  object  are  essential.  In  the 
case  of  pain  and  of  pain  alone,  it  seems  to  be  true  that  a mere 
cognition,  by  itself,  may  be  a great  evil.  It  is,  indeed,  an 
organic  unity,  since  it  involves  both  the  cognition  and  the 
object,  neither  of  which,  by  themselves,  has  either  merit  or 
demerit.  But  it  is  a less  complex  organic  unity  than  any  other 
great  evil  and  than  any  great  good,  both  in  respect  of  the  fact 
that  it  does  not  involve,  beside  the  cognition,  an  emotion  directed 


THE  IDEAL 


213 


VI] 


towards  its  object,  and  also  in  respect  of  the  fact  that  the  object 
may  here  be  absolutely  simple,  whereas  in  most,  if  not  all,  other 
cases,  the  object  itself  is  highly  complex. 

This  want  of  analogy  between  the  relation  of  pain  to  intrinsic 
evil  and  of  pleasure  to  intrinsic  good,  seems  also  to  be  exhibited 
in  a second  respect.  Not  only  is  it  the  case  that  consciousness 
of  intense  pain  is,  by  itself,  a great  evil,  whereas  consciousness 
of  intense  pleasure  is,  by  itself,  no  great  good;  but  also  the 
converse  difference  appears  to  hold  of  the  contribution  which 
they  make  to  the  value  of  the  whole,  when  they  are  combined 
respectively  with  another  great  evil  or  with  a great  good.  That 
is  to  say,  the  presence  of  pleasure  (though  not  in  proportion  to 
its  intensity)  does  appear  to  enhance  the  value  of  a whole,  in 
which  it  is  combined  with  any  of  the  great  unmixed  goods 
which  we  have  considered : it  might  even  be  maintained  that  it 
is  only  wholes,  in  which  some  pleasure  is  included,  that  possess 
any  great  value : it  is  certain,  at  all  events,  that  the  presence 
of  pleasure  makes  a contribution  to  the  value  of  good  wholes 
greatly  in  excess  of  its  own  intrinsic  value.  On  the  contrary,  if 
a feeling  of  pain  be  combined  with  any  of  the  evil  states  of 
mind  which  we  have  been  considering,  the  difference  which  its 
presence  makes  to  the  value  of  the  whole,  as  a whole,  seems  to 
be  rather  for  the  better  than  the  worse : in  any  case,  the  only 
additional  evil  which  it  introduces,  is  that  which  it,  by  itself, 
intrinsically  constitutes.  Thus,  whereas  pain  is  in  itself  a great 
evil,  but  makes  no  addition  to  the  badness  of  a whole,  in  which 
it  is  combined  with  some  other  bad  thing,  except  that  which 
consists  in  its  own  intrinsic  badness;  pleasure,  conversely,  is 
not  in  itself  a great  good,  but  does  make  a great  addition  to  the 
goodness  of  a whole  in  which  it  is  combined  with  a good  thing, 
quite  apart  from  its  own  intrinsic  value. 

128.  But  finally,  it  must  be  insisted  that  pleasure  and  pain 
are  completely  analogous  in  this : that  we  cannot  assume  either 
that  the  presence  of  pleasure  always  makes  a state  of  things 
better  on  the  whole,  or  that  the  presence  of  pain  always  makes 
it  worse.  This  is  the  truth  which  is  most  liable  to  be  overlooked 
with  regard  to  them ; and  it  is  because  this  is  true,  that  the 
common  theory,  that  pleasure  is  the  only  good  and  pain  the 


214 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap, 

only  evil,  has  its  grossest  consequences  in  misj udgments  of 
value.  Not  only  is  the  pleasantness  of  a state  not  in  proportion 
to  its  intrinsic  worth  ; it  may  even  add  positively  to  its  vileness. 
We  do  not  think  the  successful  hatred  of  a villian  the  less  vile 
and  odious,  because  he  takes  the  keenest  delight  in  it ; nor  is 
there  the  least  need,  in  logic,  why  we  should  think  so,  apart 
from  an  unintelligent  prejudice  in  favour  of  pleasure.  In  fact 
it  seems  to  be  the  case  that  wherever  pleasure  is  added  to  an 
evil  state  of  either  of  our  first  two  classes,  the  whole  thus  formed 
is  always  worse  than  if  no  pleasure  had  been  there.  And  simi- 
larly with  regard  to  pain.  If  pain  be  added  to  an  evil  state  of 
either  of  our  first  two  classes,  the  whole  thus  formed  is  alwa.ys 
better,  as  a whole,  than  if  no  pain  had  been  there ; though 
here,  if  the  pain  be  too  intense,  since  that  is  a great  evil,  the 
state  may  not  be  better  on  the  whole.  It  is  in  this  way  that 
the  theory  of  vindictive  punishment  may  be  vindicated.  The 
infliction  of  pain  on  a person  whose  state  of  mind  is  bad  may,  if 
the  pain  be  not  too  intense,  create  a state  of  things  that  is 
better  on  the  whole  than  if  the  evil  state  of  mind  had  existed 
unpunished.  Whether  such  a state  of  things  can  ever  constitute 
a positive  good,  is  another  question. 

129.  II.  The  consideration  of  this  other  question  belongs 
properly  to  the  second  topic,  which  was  reserved  above  for  dis- 
cussion— namely  the  topic  of  ‘ mixed  ’ goods.  ‘ Mixed  ’ goods 
were  defined  above  as  things,  which,  though  positively  good  as 
wholes,  nevertheless  contain,  as  essential  elements,  something 
intrinsically  evil  or  ugly.  And  there  certainly  seem  to  be  such 
goods.  But  for  the  proper  consideration  of  them,  it  is  necessary 
to  take  into  account  a new  distinction — the  distinction  just 
expressed  as  being  between  the  value  which  a thing  possesses 
‘ as  a whole,’  and  that  which  it  possesses  ‘ on  the  whole.’ 

When  ‘ mixed  ’ goods  were  defined  as  things  positively  good 
as  wholes,  the  expression  was  ambiguous.  It  was  meant  that 
they  were  positively  good  on  the  whole',  but  it  must  now  be 
observed  that  the  value  which  a thing  possesses  on  the  whole 
may  be  said  to  be  equivalent  to  the  sum  of  the  value  which  it 
possesses  as  a whole,  together  with  the  intrinsic  values  which 
may  belong  to  any  of  its  parts.  In  iact,  by  the  ‘ value  which 


VI] 


THE  IDEAL 


215 


a thing  possesses  as  a whole,’  there  may  be  meant  two  quite 
distinct  things.  There  may  be  meant  either  (1)  That  value 
which  arises  solely  from  the  combination  of  two  or  more  things ; 
or  else  (2)  The  total  value  formed  by  the  addition  to  (1)  of  any 
intrinsic  values  which  may  belong  to  the  things  combined. 
The  meaning  of  the  distinction  may  perhaps  be  most  easily 
seen  by  considering  the  supposed  case  of  vindictive  punishment. 
If  it  is  true  that  the  combined  existence  of  two  evils  may  yet 
constitute  a less  evil  than  would  be  constituted  by  the  existence 
of  either  singly,  it  is  plain  that  this  can  only  be  because  there 
arises  from  the  combination  a positive  good  which  is  greater 
than  the  difference  between  the  sum  of  the  two  evils  and  the 
demerit  of  either  singly : this  positive  good  would  then  be  the 
value  of  the  whole,  as  a whole,  in  sense  (1).  Yet  if  this  value 
be  not  so  great  a good  as  the  sum  of  the  two  evils  is  an  evil, 
it  is  plain  that  the  value  of  the  whole  state  of  things  will  be 
a positive  evil ; and  this  value  is  the  value  of  the  whole,  as 
a whole,  in  sense  (2).  Whatever  view  may  he  taken  with 
regard  to  the  particular  case  of  vindictive  punishment,  it  is 
plain  that  we  have  here  two  distinct  things,  with  regard  to 
either  of  which  a separate  question  may  be  asked  in  the  case 
of  every  organic  unity.  The  first  of  these  two  things  may 
be  expressed  as  the  difference  between  the  value  of  the  whole 
thing  and  the  sum  of  the  value  of  its  parts.  And  it  is  plain 
that  where  the  parts  have  little  or  no  intrinsic  value  (as  in  our 
first  class  of  goods,  §§  114,  115),  this  difference  will  be  nearly  or 
absolutely  identical  with  the  value  of  the  whole  thing.  The 
distinction,  therefore,  only  becomes  important  in  the  case  of 
wholes,  of  which  one  or  more  parts  have  a great  intrinsic  value, 
positive  or  negative.  The  first  of  these  cases,  that  of  a whole, 
in  which  one  part  has  a great  positive  value,  is  exemplified 
in  our  2nd  and  3rd  classes  of  great  unmixed  goods  (§§  120, 122); 
and  similarly  the  Summum  Bonum  is  a whole  of  which  many 
parts  have  a great  positive  value.  Such  cases,  it  may  be  ob- 
served, are  also  very  frequent  and  very  important  objects  of 
Aesthetic  judgment ; since  the  essential  distinction  between 
the  ‘ classical  ’ and  the  ‘ romantic  ’ styles  consists  in  the  fact 
that  the  former  aims  at  obtaining  the  greatest  possible  value 


216 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


for  the  whole,  as  a luhole,  in  sense  (1),  whereas  the  latter  sacri- 
fices this  in  order  to  obtain  the  greatest  possible  value  for  some 
part,  which  is  itself  an  organic  unity.  It  follows  that  we  cannot 
declare  either  style  to  be  necessarily  superior,  since  an  equally 
good  result  on  the  whole,  or  ‘as  a whole’  in  sense  (2),  may  be 
obtained  by  either  method ; but  the  distinctively  aesthetic 
temperament  seems  to  be  characterised  by  a tendency  to  prefer 
a good  result  obtained  by  the  classical,  to  an  equally  good 
result  obtained  by  the  romantic  method. 

130.  But  what  we  have  now  to  consider  are  cases  of 
wholes,  in  which  one  or  more  parts  have  a great  negative  value 
— are  great  positive  evils.  And  first  of  all,  we  may  take  the 
strongest  cases,  like  that  of  retributive  punishment,  in  which 
we  have  a whole,  exclusively  composed  of  two  great  positive 
evils — wickedness  and  pain.  Can  such  a whole  ever  be  positively 
good  on  the  whole  ? 

(1)  I can  see  no  reason  to  think  that  such  wholes  ever  are 
positively  good  on  the  whole.  But  from  the  fact  that  they  may, 
nevertheless,  be  less  evils,  than  either  of  their  parts  taken 
singly,  it  follows  that  they  have  a characteristic  which  is  most 
important  for  the  correct  decision  of  practical  questions.  It 
follows  that,  quite  apart  from  consequences  or  any  value  which 
an  evil  may  have  as  a mere  means,  it  may,  supposing  one  evil 
already  exists,  be  worth  while  to  create  another,  since,  by  the 
mere  creation  of  this  second,  there  may  be  constituted  a whole 
less  bad  than  if  the  original  evil  had  been  left  to  exist  by  itself. 
And  similarly,  with  regard  to  all  the  wholes  which  I am  about 
to  consider,  it  must  be  remembered,  that,  even  if  they  are  not 
goods  on  the  whole,  yet,  where  an  evil  already  exists,  as  in  this 
world  evils  do  exist,  the  existence  of  the  other  part  of  these 
wholes  will  constitute  a thing  desirable  for  its  own  sake — that 
is  to  say,  not  merely  a means  to  future  goods,  but  one  of  the 
ends  which  must  be  taken  into  account  in  estimating  what 
that  best  possible  state  of  things  is,  to  which  every  right  action 
must  be  a means. 

131.  (2)  But,  as  a matter  of  fact,  I cannot  avoid  thinking 
that  there  are  wholes,  containing  something  positively  evil  and 
ugly,  which  are,  nevertheless,  great  positive  goods  on  the  whole. 


VI] 


THE  IDEAL 


217 


Indeed,  it  appears  to  be  to  this  class  that  those  instances  of 
virtue,  which  contain  anything  intrinsically  good,  chiefly  be- 
long. It  need  not,  of  course,  be  denied  that  there  is  sometimes 
included  in  a virtuous  disposition  more  or  less  of  those  un- 
mixed goods  which  were  first  discussed — that  is  to  say,  a real 
love  of  what  is  good  or  beautiful.  But  the  typical  and  charac- 
teristic virtuous  dispositions,  so  far  as  they  are  not  mere  means, 
seem  rather  to  be  examples  of  mixed  goods.  We  may  take  as 
instances  (a)  Courage  and  Compassion,  which  seem  to  belong 
to  the  second  of  the  three  classes  of  virtues  distinguished  in  our 
last  chapter  (§  107);  and  (b)  the  specifically  ‘moral’  sentiment, 
by  reference  to  which  the  third  of  those  three  classes  was 
defined  (§  108). 

Courage  and  compassion,  in  so  far  as  they  contain  an  in- 
trinsically desirable  state  of  mind,  seem  to  involve  essentially 
a cognition  of  something  evil  or  ugly.  In  the  case  of  courage 
the  object  of  the  cognition  may  be  an  evil  of  any  of  our  three 
classes;  in  the  case  of  compassion,  the  proper  object  is  pain. 
Both  these  virtues,  accordingly,  must  contain  precisely  the 
same  cognitive  element,  which  is  also  essential  to  evils  of  class 
(1);  and  they  are  differentiated  from  these  by  the  fact  that  the 
emotion  directed  to  these  objects  is,  in  their  case,  an  emotion 
of  the  same  kind  which  was  essential  to  evils  of  class  (2).  In 
short,  just  as  evils  of  class  (2)  seemed  to  consist  in  a hatred  of 
what  was  good  or  beautiful,  and  evils  of  class  (1)  in  a love  of 
what  was  evil  or  ugly;  so  these  virtues  involve  a hatred  of 
w'hat  is  evil  or  ugly.  Both  these  virtues  do,  no  doubt,  also  con- 
tain other  elements,  and,  among  these,  each  contains  its  specific 
emotion;  but  that  their  value  does  not  depend  solely  upon  these 
other  elements,  we  may  easily  assure  ourselves,  by  considering 
what  we  should  think  of  an  attitude  of  endurance  or  of  defiant 
contempt  toward  an  object  intrinsically  good  or  beautiful,  or 
of  the  state  of  a man  whose  mind  was  filled  with  pity  for  the 
happiness  of  a worthy  admiration.  Yet  pity  for  the  undeserved 
sufferings  of  others,  endurance  of  pain  to  ourselves,  and  a defiant 
hatred  of  evil  dispositions  in  ourselves  or  in  others,  seem  to  be  un- 
doubtedly admirable  in  themselves;  and  if  so,  there  are  admirable 
things,  which  must  be  lost,  if  there  were  no  cognition  of  evil. 


218 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


Similarly  the  specifically  ‘moral’  sentiment,  in  all  cases 
where  it  has  any  considerable  intrinsic  value,  appears  to  include 
a hatred  of  evils  of  the  first  and  second  classes.  It  is  true  that 
the  emotion  is  here  excited  by  the  idea  that  an  action  is  right 
or  wrong ; and  hence  the  object  of  the  idea  which  excites  it 
is  generally  not  an  intrinsic  evil.  But,  as  far  as  I can  discover, 
the  emotion  with  which  a conscientious  man  views  a real  or 
imaginary  right  action,  contains,  as  an  essential  element,  the 
same  emotion  with  which  he  views  a wrong  one:  it  seems, 
indeed,  that  this  element  is  necessary  to  make  his  emotion 
specifically  moral.  And  the  specifically  moral  emotion  excited 
by  the  idea  of  a wrong  action,  seems  to  me  to  contain  essentially 
a more  or  less  vague  cognition  of  the  kind  of  intrinsic  evils, 
which  are  usually  caused  by  wrong  actions,  whether  they  would 
or  would  not  be  caused  by  the  particular  action  in  question. 
I am,  in  fact,  unable  to  distinguish,  in  its  main  features,  the 
moral  sentiment  excited  by  the  idea  of  rightness  and  wrongness, 
wherever  it  is  intense,  from  the  total  state  constituted  by 
a cognition  of  something  intrinsically  evil  together  with  the 
emotion  of  hatred  directed  towards  it.  Nor  need  we  be  sur- 
prised that  this  mental  state  should  be  the  one  chiefly  associated 
with  the  idea  of  rightness,  if  we  reflect  on  the  nature  of  those 
actions  which  are  most  commonly  recognised  as  duties.  For 
by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  actions,  of  which  we  commonly 
think  as  duties,  are  negative:  what  we  feel  to  be  our  duty  is 
to  abstain  from  some  action  to  which  a strong  natural  impulse 
tempts  us.  And  these  wrong  actions,  in  the  avoidance  of  which 
duty  consists,  are  usually  such  as  produce,  very  immediately, 
some  bad  consequence  in  pain  to  others;  while,  in  many  promi- 
nent instances,  the  inclination,  which  prompts  us  to  them,  is 
itself  an  intrinsic  evil,  containing,  as  where  the  impulse  is  lust 
or  cruelty,  an  anticipatory  enjoyment  of  something  evil  or  ugly. 
That  right  action  does  thus  so  frequently  entail  the  suppression 
of  some  evil  impulse,  is  necessary  to  explain  the  plausibility 
of  the  view  that  virtue  consists  in  the  control  of  passion  by 
reason.  Accordingly,  the  truth  seems  to  be  that,  whenever 
a strong  moral  emotion  is  excited  by  the  idea  of  rightness,  this 
emotion  is  accompanied  by  a vague  cognition  of  the  kind  of 


VI] 


THE  IDEAL 


219 


evils  usually  suppressed  or  avoided  by  the  actions  which  most 
frequently  occur  to  us  as  instances  of  duty;  and  that  the 
emotion  is  directed  towards  this  evil  quality.  We  may,  then, 
conclude  that  the  specific  moral  emotion  owes  almost  all  its 
intrinsic  value  to  the  fact  that  it  includes  a cognition  of  evils 
accompanied  by  a hatred  of  them : mere  rightness,  whether 
truly  or  untruly  attributed  to  an  action,  seems  incapable  of 
forming  the  object  of  an  emotional  contemplation,  which  shall 
be  any  great  good. 

132.  If  this  be  so,  then  we  have,  in  many  prominent 
instances  of  virtue,  cases  of  a whole,  greatly  good  in  itself,  which 
yet  contains  the  cognition  of  something,  whereof  the  existence 
would  be  a great  evil:  a great  good  is  absolutely  dependent  for 
its  value,  upon  its  inclusion  of  something  evil  or  ugly,  although 
it  does  not  owe  its  value  solely  to  this  element  in  it.  And,  in 
the  case  of  virtues,  this  evil  object  does,  in  general,  actually  exist. 
But  there  seems  no  reason  to  think  that,  when  it  does  exist,  the 
whole  state  of  things  thus  constituted  is  therefore  the  better  on 
the  whole.  What  seems  indubitable,  is  only  that  the  feeling 
contemplation  of  an  object,  whose  existence  would  be  a great 
evil,  or  which  is  ugly,  may  be  essential  to  a valuable  whole. 
We  have  another  undoubted  instance  of  this  in  the  appreciation 
of  tragedy.  But,  in  tragedy,  the  sufferings  of  Lear,  and  the 
vice  of  lago  may  be  purely  imaginary.  And  it  seems  certain 
that,  if  they  really  existed,  the  evil  thus  existing,  while  it  must 
detract  from  the  good  consisting  in  a proper  feeling  towards 
them,  will  add  no  positive  value  to  that  good  great  enough  to 
counterbalance  such  a loss.  It  does,  indeed,  seem  that  the 
existence  of  a true  belief  in  the  object  of  these  mixed  goods 
does  add  some  value  to  the  whole  in  which  it  is  combined  with 
them : a conscious  compassion  for  real  suffering  seems  to  be 
better,  as  a whole,  than  a compassion  for  sufferings  merely 
imaginary;  and  this  may  well  be  the  case,  even  though  the 
evil  involved  in  the  actual  suffering  makes  the  total  state  of 
things  bad  on  the  whole.  And  it  certainly  seems  to  be  true 
that  a false  belief  in  the  actual  existence  of  its  object  makes 
a worse  mixed  good  than  if  our  state  of  mind  were  that  with 
which  we  normally  regard  pure  fiction.  Accordingly  we  may 


220 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


conclude  that  the  only  mixed  goods,  which  are  positively  good 
on  the  whole,  are  those  in  which  the  object  is  something  which 
would  be  a great  evil,  if  it  existed,  or  which  is  ugly. 

133.  With  regard,  then,  to  those  mixed  goods,  which 
consist  in  an  appropriate  attitude  of  the  mind  towards  things 
evil  or  ugly,  and  which  include  among  their  number  the  greater 
part  of  such  virtues  as  have  any  intrinsic  value  whatever,  the 
following  three  conclusions  seem  to  be  those  chiefly  requiring 
to  be  emphasized: — 

(1)  There  seems  no  reason  to  think  that  where  the  object 
is  a thing  evil  in  itself,  which  actually  exists,  the  total  state  of 
things  is  ever  positively  good  on  the  whole.  The  appropriate 
mental  attitude  towards  a really  existing  evil  contains,  of 
course,  an  element  which  is  absolutely  identical  with  the  same 
attitude  towards  the  same  evil,  where  it  is  purely  imaginary. 
And  this  element,  which  is  common  to  the  two  cases,  may  be  a 
great  positive  good,  on  the  whole.  But  there  seems  no  reason 
to  doubt  that,  where  the  evil  is  7'eal,  the  amount  of  this  real 
evil  is  always  sufficient  to  reduce  the  total  sum  of  value  to  a 
negative  quantity.  Accordingly  we  have  no  reason  to  maintain 
the  paradox  that  an  ideal  world  would  be  one  in  which  vice  and 
suffering  must  exist  in  order  that  it  may  contain  the  goods 
consisting  in  the  appropriate  emotion  towards  them.  It  is  not 
a positive  good  that  suffering  should  exist,  in  order  that  we 
may  compassionate  it ; or  wickedness,  that  we  may  hate  it. 
There  is  no  reason  to  think  that  any  actual  evil  whatsoever 
would  be  contained  in  the  Ideal.  It  follows  that  we  cannot 
admit  the  actual  validity  of  any  of  the  arguments  commonly 
used  in  Theodicies;  no  such  argument  succeeds  in  justifying 
the  fact  that  there  does  exist  even  the  smallest  of  the  many 
evils  which  this  world  contains.  The  most  that  can  be  said  for 
such  arguments  is  that,  when  they  make  appeal  to  the  principle 
of  organic  unity,  their  appeal  is  valid  in  principle.  It  might  be 
the  case  that  the  existence  of  evil  was  necessary,  not  merely  as 
a means,  but  analytically,  to  the  existence  of  the  greatest  good. 
But  we  have  no  reason  to  think  that  this  is  the  case  in  any 
instance  whatsoever. 

But  (2)  there  is  reason  to  think  that  the  cognition  of  things 


VI] 


THE  IDEAL 


221 


evil  or  ugly,  which  are  purely  imaginary,  is  essential  to  the 
Ideal.  In  this  case  the  burden  of  proof  lies  the  other  way.  It 
cannot  be  doubted  that  the  appreciation  of  tragedy  is  a great 
positive  good;  and  it  seems  almost  equally  certain  that  the 
virtues  of  compassion,  courage,  and  self-control  contain  such 
goods.  And  to  all  these  the  cognition  of  things  which  would 
be  evil,  if  they  existed,  is  analytically  necessary.  Here  then  we 
have  things  of  which  the  existence  must  add  value  to  any  whole 
in  which  they  are  contained ; nor  is  it  possible  to  assure  our- 
selves that  any  whole,  from  which  they  were  omitted,  would 
thereby  gain  more  in  its  value  as  a whole,  than  it  would  lose 
by  their  omission.  We  have  no  reason  to  think  that  any  whole, 
which  did  not  contain  them,  would  be  so  good  on  the  whole  as 
some  whole  in  which  they  were  obtained.  The  case  for  their 
inclusion  in  the  Ideal  is  as  strong  as  that  for  the  inclusion  of 
material  qualities  (§  123,  above).  Against  the  inclusion  of 
these  goods  nothing  can  be  urged  except  a bare  possibility. 

Finally  (3)  it  is  important  to  insist  that,  as  was  said  above, 
these  mixed  virtues  have  a great  practical  value,  in  addition  to 
that  which  they  possess  either  in  themselves  or  as  mere  means. 
Where  evils  do  exist,  as  in  this  world  they  do,  the  fact  that 
they  are  known  and  properly  appreciated,  constitutes  a state  of 
things  having  greater  value  as  a whole  even  than  the  same 
appreciation  of  purely  imaginary  evils.  This  state  of  things,  it 
has  been  said,  is  never  positively  good  on  the  whole ; but  where 
the  evil,  which  reduces  its  total  value  to  a negative  quantity, 
already  unavoidably  exists,  to  obtain  the  intrinsic  value  which 
belongs  to  it  as  a whole  will  obviously  produce  a better  state  of 
things  than  if  the  evil  had  existed  by  itself,  quite  apart  from 
the  good  element  in  it  which  is  identical  with  the  appreciation 
of  imaginary  evils,  and  from  any  ulterior  consequences  which 
its  existence  may  bring  about.  The  case  is  here  the  same  as 
with  retributive  punishment.  Where  an  evil  already  exists,  it 
is  well  that  it  should  be  pitied  or  hated  or  endured,  according 
to  its  nature;  just  as  it  may  be  well  that  some  evils  should  be 
punished.  Of  course,  as  in  all  practical  cases,  it  often  happens 
that  the  attainment  of  this  good  is  incompatible  with  the 
attainment  of  another  and  a greater  one.  But  it  is  important 


222 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


to  insist  that  we  have  here  a real  intrinsic  value,  which  must 
be  taken  into  account  in  calculating  that  greatest  possible 
balance  of  intrinsic  value,  which  it  is  always  our  duty  to 
produce, 

134.  I have  now  completed  such  remarks  as  seemed  most 
necessary  to  be  made  concerning  intrinsic  values.  It  is  obvious 
that  for  the  proper  answering  of  this,  the  fundamental  question 
of  Ethics,  there  remains  a field  of  investigation  as  wide  and  as 
difficult,  as  was  assigned  to  Practical  Ethics  in  my  last  chapter. 
There  is  as  much  to  be  said  concerning  what  results  are 
intrinsically  good,  and  in  what  degrees,  as  concerning  what 
results  it  is  possible  for  us  to  bring  about : both  questions 
demand,  and  wiU  repay,  an  equally  patient  enquiry.  Many 
of  the  judgments,  which  I have  made  in  this  chapter,  will,  no 
doubt,  seem  unduly  arbitrary : it  must  be  confessed  that  some 
of  the  attributions  of  intrinsic  value,  which  have  seemed  to  me 
to  be  true,  do  not  display  that  symmetry  and  system  which  is 
wont  to  be  required  of  philosophers.  But  if  this  be  urged  as 
an  objection,  I may  respectfully  point  out  that  it  is  none.  We 
have  no  title  whatever  to  assume  that  the  truth  on  any  subject- 
matter  will  display  such  symmetry  as  we  desire  to  see — or  (to 
use  the  common  vague  phrase)  that  it  will  possess  any  par- 
ticular form  of  ‘unity.’  To  search  for  ‘unity’  and  ‘system,’  at 
the  expense  of  truth,  is  not,  I take  it,  the  proper  business  of 
philosophy,  however  universally  it  may  have  been  the  practice 
of  philosophers.  And  that  all  truths  about  the  Universe 
possess  to  one  another  all  the  various  relations,  which  may  be 
meant  by  ‘unity,’  can  only  be  legitimately  asserted,  when  we 
have  carefully  distinguished  those  various  relations  and  dis- 
covered what  those  truths  are.  In  particular,  we  can  have  no 
title  to  assert  that  ethical  truths  are  ‘unified’  in  any  particular 
manner,  except  in  virtue  of  an  enquiry  conducted  by  the  method 
which  I have  endeavoured  to  follow  and  to  illustrate.  The  study 
of  Ethics  would,  no  doubt,  be  far  more  simple,  and  its  results 
far  more  ‘systematic,’  if,  for  instance,  pain  were  an  evil  of 
exactly  the  same  magnitude  as  pleasure  is  a good ; but  we  have 
no  reason  whatever  to  assume  that  the  Universe  is  such  that 
ethical  truths  must  display  this  kind  of  symmetry:  no  argument 


VIJ 


THE  IDEAL 


223 


against  my  conclusion,  that  pleasure  and  pain  do  not  thus 
correspond,  can  have  any  weight  whatever,  failing  a careful 
examination  of  the  instances  which  have  led  me  to  form  it. 
Nevertheless  I am  content  that  the  results  of  this  chapter 
should  be  taken  rather  as  illustrating  the  method  which  must 
be  pursued  in  answering  the  fundamental  question  of  Ethics, 
and  the  principles  which  must  be  observed,  than  as  giving  the 
correct  answer  to  that  question.  That  things  intrinsically  good 
or  bad  are  many  and  various ; that  most  of  them  are  ‘ organic 
unities,’  in  the  peculiar  and  definite  sense  to  which  I have 
confined  the  term;  and  that  our  only  means  of  deciding  upon 
their  intrinsic  value  and  its  degree,  is  by  carefully  distinguishing 
exactly  what  the  thing  is,  about  which  we  ask  the  question, 
and  then  looking  to  see  whether  it  has  or  has  not  the  unique 
predicate  ‘good’  in  any  of  its  various  degrees:  these  are  the 
conclusions,  upon  the  truth  of  which  I desire  to  insist. 
Similarly,  in  my  last  chapter,  with  regard  to  the  question 
What  ought  we  to  do?’  I have  endeavoured  rather  to  shew 
exactly  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  question,  and  what 
difficulties  must  consequently  be  faced  in  answering  it,  than 
to  prove  that  any  particular  answers  are  true.  And  that  these 
two  questions,  having  precisely  the  nature  which  I have  assigned 
to  them,  are  the  questions  which  it  is  the  object  of  Ethics  to 
answer,  may  be  regarded  as  the  main  result  of  the  preceding 
chapters.  These  are  the  questions  which  ethical  philosophers 
have  always  been  mainly  concerned  to  answer,  although  they 
have  not  recognised  what  their  question  was — what  predicate 
they  were  asserting  to  attach  to  things.  The  practice  of  asking 
what  things  are  virtues  or  duties,  without  distinguishing  what 
these  terms  mean ; the  practice  of  asking  what  ought  to  be  here 
and  now,  without  distinguishing  whether  as  means  or  end — for 
its  own  sake  or  for  that  of  its  results ; the  search  for  one  single 
criterion  of  right  or  wrong,  without  the  recognition  that  in 
order  to  discover  a criterion  we  must  first  know  what  things 
are  right  or  wrong;  and  the  neglect  of  the  principle  of ‘organic 
unities’ — these  sources  of  error  have  hitherto  been  almost 
universally  prevalent  in  Ethics.  The  conscious  endeavour  to 
avoid  them  all,  and  to  apply  to  all  the  ordinary  objects  of  ethical 


224 


THE  IDEAL 


[chap. 


j udgment  these  two  questions  and  these  only : Has  it  intrinsic 
value?  and  Is  it  a means  to  the  best  possible? — this  attempt, 
so  far  as  I know,  is  entirely  new;  and  its  results,  when  compared 
with  those  habitual  to  moral  philosophers,  are  certainly  suf- 
ficiently surprising:  that  to  Common  Sense  they  will  not  appear 
so  strange,  I venture  to  hope  and  believe.  It  is,  I think,  much 
to  be  desired  that  the  labour  commonly  devoted  to  answering 
such  questions  as  whether  certain  ‘ends’  are  more  or  less  ‘com- 
prehensive’ or  more  or  less  ‘consistent’  with  one  another — 
questions,  which,  even  if  a precise  meaning  were  given  to  them, 
are  wholly  irrelevant  to  the  proof  of  any  ethical  conclusion — 
should  be  diverted  to  the  separate  investigation  of  these  two 
clear  problems. 

135.  The  main  object  of  this  chapter  has  been  to  define 
roughly  the  class  of  things,  among  which  we  may  expect  to  find 
either  great  intrinsic  goods  or  great  intrinsic  evils ; and  parti- 
cularly to  point  out  that  there  is  a vast  variety  of  such  things, 
and  that  the  simplest  of  them  are,  with  one  exception,  highly 
complex  wholes,  composed  of  parts  which  have  little  or  no  value 
in  themselves.  All  of  them  involve  consciousness  of  an  object, 
which  is  itself  usually  highly  complex,  and  almost  all  involve  also 
an  emotional  attitude  towards  this  object;  but,  though  they 
thus  have  certain  characteristics  in  common,  the  vast  variety  of 
qualities  in  respect  of  which  they  differ  from  one  another  are 
equally  essential  to  their  value:  neither  the  generic  character  of 
all,  nor  the  specific  character  of  each,  is  either  greatly  good  or 
greatly  evil  by  itself;  they  owe  their  value  or  demerit,  in  each 
case,  to  the  presence  of  both.  My  discussion  falls  into  three  main 
divisions,  dealing  respectively  (1)  with  unmixed  goods,  (2)  with 
evils,  and  (3)  with  mixed  goods.  (1)  Unmixed  goods  may  all 
be  said  to  consist  in  the  love  of  beautiful  things  or  of  good 
persons:  but  the  number  of  different  goods  of  this  kind  is  as 
great  as  that  of  beautiful  objects,  and  they  are  also  differentiated 
from  one  another  by  the  different  emotions  appropriate  to 
different  objects.  These  goods  are  undoubtedly  good,  even 
where  the  things  or  persons  loved  are  imaginary;  but  it  was 
urged  that,  where  the  thing  or  person  is  real  and  is  believed  to 
be  so,  these  two  facts  together,  when  combined  with  the  mere 


VI] 


THE  IDEAL 


225 


love  of  the  qualities  in  question,  constitute  a whole  which  is 
greatly  better  than  that  mere  love,  having  an  additional  value 
quite  distinct  from  that  which  belongs  to  the  existence  of  the 
object,  where  that  object  is  a good  person.  Finally  it  was 
pointed  out  that  the  love  of  mental  qualities,  by  themselves, 
does  not  seem  to  be  so  great  a good  as  that  of  mental  and 
material  qualities  together;  and  that,  in  any  case,  an  immense 
number  of  the  best  things  are,  or  include,  a love  of  material 
qualities  (113 — 123).  (2)  Great  evils  may  be  said  to  consist 
either  (a)  in  the  love  of  what  is  evil  or  ugly,  or  (b)  in  the  hatred 
of  what  is  good  or  beautiful,  or  (c)  in  the  consciousness  of  pain. 
Thus  the  consciousness  of  pain,  if  it  be  a great  evil,  is  the  only 
exception  to  the  rule  that  all  great  goods  and  great  evils  involve 
both  a cognition  and  an  emotion  directed  towards  its  object 
(124 — 128).  (3)  Mixed  goods  are  those  which  include  some 
element  which  is  evil  or  ugly.  They  may  be  said  to  consist 
either  in  hatred  of  what  is  ugly  or  of  evils  of  classes  (a)  and  (b), 
or  in  compassion  for  pain.  But  where  they  include  an  evil, 
which  actually  exists,  its  demerit  seems  to  be  always  great 
enough  to  outweigh  the  positive  value  which  they  possess 
(129—133). 


INDEX, 


Aesthetio 

enjoyments  189-202,  203 
judgment  215 
temperament  216 
Aesthetics  200 
ASection 
beauty  of  204-5 
misdirected  195,  198 
reciprocal  198 
value  of  188-9,  203-5 
Altruism  96-7,  167 
Analytic  judgments  7,  29,  33-4,  35, 
220-1 

Appreciation  189-90,  200,  204-5,  221 
Approval  131 
Approve  60 
Approbation  171 

Appropriate,  inappropriate  192,  199, 
204-5,  209,  211,  220 
defined  190 
Aristotle  4 

definition  of  virtue  171 
valuation  of  virtues  176-7 
valuation  of  knowledge  199 
Art 

value  of  188 

representative,  value  of  193, 195, 196, 
200 

Autonomy  127 

Bad  5,  27,  28,  95,  140,  143,  157,  178, 
181,188,  209, 210,  213, 214,216, 218 
•Based  on’  88,  49,  54,  114,  115,  118, 
120,  122,  144 
Beauty 

corporeal  203-4 
no  criterion  of  202 
definition  of  201-2,  208 
mental  203-5 


• seeing  ’ of  190-1 

value  of  28,  81-2,  83-5,  86,  94, 
188-9,  201-2,  209,  211,  224 
Being,  diet,  from  existence  110-11 
Belief,  value  of  193-200,  208,  210-11, 
212,  219,  224-5 

Benevolence,  Sidgwiok’s  ‘ principle  of 
Bational  ’ 102-3 
Bentbam  145 
naturalistic  fallacy  17-19 
quantity  of  pleasure  77-8 
Bradley,  F.  H. 
pleasure  and  desire  70 
theory  of  judgment  125 
Butler,  Bishop  86,  206 

Casuistry  4-5 
Causal  judgments 

relation  to  Ethics  21-7,  36,  146-8, 
149,  180 

Causal  relations  31-3,  34-6 
Chastity  158 
Classical  style  216-16 
Christ 

Qfi  value  of  motives  178 
o’d  love  179 
Christian  Ethics  178 
on  ‘ external  ’ rightness  177 
on  ‘ internal  ’ rightness  178-9 
on  value  of  motives  177-9 
on  value  of  virtue  174 
CUfford,  W.  K.  40 
Cognition 
ofevU  217-19 
dist.  from  knowledge  194 
relation  to  will  and  feeling  129-80, 
133,  135-6,  141 

value  of  85,  189-92,  194,  199,  208, 
212,  224,  225 


228 


INDEX 


Comtnands,  confnscd  with  moral  laws 
128-9,  141 
Common  sense  224 
on  value  of  pleasure  86,  91-2,  94-5 
on  duties  156-9 
Compassion  217,  219,  220,  225 
Conduct,  relation  of  to  Ethics  2-3, 
146,  180 
Conscience 
defined  178 
not  infallible  149,  180 
Conscientiousness  218 
defined  179 
utility  of  180 
Contempt  211,  217 
Corporeal  beauty  203-4 
Courage  217 
Crimes  161 
Criterion 

of  beauty  202 
evolution  as  46,  50,  55-6 
of  goodness  137-8 
pleasure  as  91-2,  94-5,  108 
of  right  and  wrong  223 
will  as  137-8 
of  truth  133 
Cruelty  209-11,  218 

Darwin  47 

Definition,  nature  of  6-9,  18-20 
Desirable,  meaning  of  65-7,  73 
Desire,  cause  and  object  of  68-70, 
73-4 
Duty 

= cause  of  or  means  to  good  24-5, 
105,  146-8,  167,  180,  223 
fuller  definitions  of  148, 161,  180-1, 
222 

incapable  of  being  known  149-50, 
181 

mainly  negative  218 
object  of  psychological  intuition  148 
relations  to  expediency  167-70,  181 
interest  170-1,  181 
possibility  150-2 
rightness  148 
utility  146-7,  167-70 
virtue  172 
will  160,  161 
not  self-evident  148,  181 
self- regarding  168 


Egoistic  Hedonism  13 
Egoism,  as  doctrine  of  end  18,  96-105, 
109 

contradiction  of  99,  101-5,  109 
relation  to  Hedonism  97-8 
relation  to  Naturalistic  Hedonism 
104-5 

Sidgwick’s  ‘ Rational  ’ 98-9,  102^ 
Egoism,  as  doctrine  of  means  96-7, 
105,  167 
Emotion 

aesthetic  190 

value  of  189-92,  199,  203,  204-5, 
208,  209,  211,  212,  217,  224,  225 
Empirical  39,  111,  123 
Empiricism  103,  124-5,  130 
End  = effect  32 

End  = good  in  itself  18,  24,  64-6,  72, 

73,  79-81,  83,  85,  94-5,  184,  216 
dist.  from  ‘ good  as  means  ’ 24,  72, 

74,  79-81,  89,  90,  94-5,  106-7, 
173-4,  178,  216,  223 

‘ultimate’  61,  88,  85,  96-7,  99-102, 
183,  189 

‘ never  justifies  means  ’ 147,163 
End  = object  of  desire  68,  70,  71,  72 
Enjoyment  77,  96,  188,  208 
aesthetic  188-9,  203 
of  evil  and  ugly  208-11,  218 
sexual  95 
Envy  211 

Epistemology  133,  140-1 
Ethics 

Evolutionistic  46,  50,  54,  53 
Metaphysical  39,  58,  113-15 
Naturalistic  39-41,  58,  59 
Practical  115-18, 140,  146, 149, 151, 
154,  180,  222 

province  of  1-6,  21,  24,  26-7,  36, 
37,  77, 115, 118, 142-6, 184,  222-4 
Eudaemonist  175 

Evil  153,  156,  158,  160,  186, 193,  205, 
207-14,  224,  225 
mixed  208,  209,  211 
positive  value  of  216-22,  225 
Evolution  46-8,  54-8 
Evolutionistic  46,  50,  52,  64,  58 
Existence 

dist.  from  being  110-12 
judgments  about  123-5 
relation  to  value  115-18,  118-22, 


INDEX 


229 


125-6,  194,  196,  197-9,  206,  210, 
216,  219,  220,  221,  225 
Expediency  167-70,  181 

Feeling 

supposed  analogy  to  cognition  129- 
31,  141 

supposed  bearing  on  Ethics  129- 
31,  141 

Fiction  121-2 
Freedom,  value  of  86,  186 
Freedom  (of  Will)  127 

God  82,  102-4 
love  of  113,  194,  195-6,  200 
Good 

indefinable  6-16,  41,  79,  110-11, 
142-4 

= means  to  good  21,  24 
the  Absolute  183,  184,  186 
the  Human  183,  184,  186 
mixed  and  unmixed  208,  209,  214, 
215,  217,  219-20,  224 
my  own  97-9,  101,  170 
‘private’  99 
the  8-9,  18 
‘Universal’  99-102 
Will  174-5,  179  n.  2,  180 
Green,  T.  H.  139 
Guyau,  M.  46 

Habit  171,  175-6,  177 
Hatred  211,  214 

of  beautiful  and  good  211,  217,  225 
of  evil  and  ugly  178,  217,  218,  220, 
221,  225 

Health  42-3,  65,  157,  167 
Heaven  115,  174,  183,  185,  195 
upon  Earth  186 

Hedonism  39,  62,  59-63,  90-1,  96, 
108-9,  174 
Egoistic  18 
Ethical  70,  144 
Intuitionistio  59,  74-6,  144 
Naturalistic  46,  50,  53,  54,  68,  IO4, 
105 

Psychological  18,  68,  69,  70,  73 
Universalistic  103 
Hegel  30,  34,  110 
Heteronomous  127 
Higher  48-9,  78 


Hobbes  97 
Honesty  175-6 
Hypothetical  laws  22,  155 

Ideal 

three  meanings  of  183-4 
the  183,  185,  205-7,  220-1 
Idealistic  130,  205 

Imagination,  value  of  193,  194,  198, 
197,  210,  219,  220,  221,  224 
Imperative  128 
Industry  157,  167 
Intention  179  n.  1 
Interest  102 

meaning  of  97-8,  106,  170-1 
dist.  from  ‘duty’  170-1,  181 
Intrinsic 

evil  ‘207,  213,  218,  224 
value  17,  21,  25-30,  36,  147,  173-7, 
187,  189,  207,  214-16,  222-4 
Intuition 

= proposition  incapable  of  proof  59, 
77,  108 

in  psychological  sense  75,  79,  85, 
92,  108,  144,  148-9,  173 
Intuitionism 

in  Sidgwick’s  sense  59,  76,  144 
in  proper  sense  106,  148 

Judgment 

error  of  192-3 

two  types  of  ethical  21,  23-7,  115, 
146,  148,  222,  224 
Justice  178 

Justify  97,  101,  147,  163 

Kant  110,  129 

‘ Copernican  revolution  ’ 133 
value  of  Good  Will  174-5,  179  n.  2, 
180 

value  of  Happiness  174-5 
theory  of  judgment  126 
‘Kingdom  of  Ends’  113 
‘practical  love’  179 
connection  of  ‘goodness’  with  ‘will’ 
126-8 
Knowledge 

involves  truth  of  object  132,  134 
involves  belief  194 
value  of  82,  86,  194,  195,  196,  197, 
199,  211,  221 


230 


INDEX 


Lascivionsness  209-10 
Law 

ethical  155 
hypothetical  22,  155 
legal  126,  128 

moral  126-8,  146,  148,  ICO,  162, 
165 

natural  26,  29,  57,  126,  183,  186 
scientific  22-3,  124,  155 
Legal  126,  128 
Leibniz  125 
Life  15,  40,  60,  52,  156 
Logical 

dependence  61,  110,  118,  122,  139, 
143-4 

fallacy  140-1 
Love 

Christ  and  Kant  on  179 
of  beautiful  and  good  177-9,  199, 
204,  217,  224 

of  evil  and  ugly  209,  210,  211,  217, 
225 

Lucian  45 
Lust  209-10,  218 
Lying  154 

Mackenzie,  Prof.  J.  S.  114,  120 
Material  qualities,  value  of  204,  205- 
7,  221,  225 

Matter,  value  of  205-7 
Meaning,  ‘to  have  no’  31,  34-5 
Moans  = cause  or  necessary  condition 
18,  21-3,  89,  180 

dist.  from  ‘ part  of  organic  whole  ’ 
27,  29-30,  32,  220 
goodness  as,  dist.  from  intrinsic 
value  21,  24,  26,  27,  37,  72,  74, 
79-81,  89,  90,  94-5,  106-7,  115, 
118, 173-4, 178, 187,  195-6, 197-8 
216,  223 

‘not  justified  by  end’  147,  163 
Mental 

beauty  of  203-5,  225 
value  of  205-7 
Mercy  178 

Metaphysical  39,  58,  110-15,  139-40 
Method 

of  discovering  intrinsic  value  20, 
36,  59-60,  64,  89,  91,  92,  93,  95, 
142-5,  173,  185-6,  187-8,  195, 
197-8,  206-7,  209,  223 


of  discovering  value  as  means  22-3, 
146,  148-54,  172-3 
Mill,  J.  S.  145 
Hedonism  63-81,  108 
naturalistic  fallacy  40,  66-7,  69, 
72-3,  74,  104,  108 
Psychological  Hedonism  68, 72, 73-4 
quality  of  pleasure  77-81,  108 
Utilitarianism  104-5 
Moral 

approbation  171 

law  126-8,  146,  148,  160,  162,  165 
obligation  128 
sentiment  168,  178,  217-19 
Motive  67,  70,  177,  178-80 
Murder  148,  151,  154,  156-7,  178 

Natural 

laws  26,  29,  57,  126,  183,  186 
objects  and  properties  13-14,  39-41, 
58,  110-11 
selection  47 

Natural  = normal  42-4,  58 
Natural  = necessary  44-5,  58 
Naturalism  20,  40,  58,  144 
Naturalistic 
Ethics  39—41,  58,  59 
fallacy  10,  13-14,  18-20,  38-9,  48, 
57,  58,  61,  64,  66-7,  69,  72-3,  74, 
104,  108,  114,  118,  124,  125,  139, 
173,  176,  201 

Hedonism  46,  50,  53,  54,  68,  104, 
105 

Nature  40-1,  110,  111,  112 
Nature,  life  according  to  41-2,  113 
Nature,  value  of  188, 193, 195,  200,  206 
Necessity 

analytic  22,  33-4,  35,  220,  221 
causal  or  natural  29,  31-2,  34,  186, 
187 

New  Testament  177,  178,  179 
Object 

of  cognition  141,  191,  192,  193, 
211 

of  desire  68-70 

natural  13-14,  39-41,  58,  110-11 
Objective  82,  201 
Obligation 
moral  103,  128,  147 
Obligatory  25,  148,  170 


INDEX 


231 


Organic  relation,  unity,  whole 
common  usage  30-6 
my  own  usage  27-31,  32-3,  36,  93, 
96,  149,  184,  187,  189,  190,  202, 
206,  208,  212,  215,  220,  223 
Ought 

to  aim  at  24-6,  100 
to  do  26,  105,  115,  116,  117,  127, 
128,  140,  146,  148,  173,  180,  223 
to  be  or  exist  17, 115, 118,  127, 128, 
148,  173,  180,  223 

Pain  64, 65, 210, 212-4,  217, 222-3,  225 

Particular  3-4 

Perception  111,  112,  134,  136 

Pessimism  61,  53,  156 

Plato 

on  Egoism  98 
on  goods  178 
on  Hedonism  88 
on  value  of  Knowledge  199 
on  universal  truths  111 
Pleasure  12-13,  16 
consciousness  of  87-91,  109,  212 
as  criterion  91-2,  108 
and  desire  68-71,  73-4 
and  ‘pleasures’  79 
‘quality  of’  77-81 
value  of,  39,  46,  50-4,  59-66,  71-2, 
74-5,  79-81,  83,  85-96,  144,  146, 
171,  173,  174,  188,  205,  212-14, 
222-3 

Pity  217,  221 
Positive  science  39 
Possible  action  150-1 
Practical,  216,  221 
Ethics  115-18,  140,  146,  149,  151, 
154,  180,  222 
Philosophy  2 
Practice  2,  20 
Praise  171 
Preference  77-9,  131 
Promises  157 
Property,  respect  of  157 
Propositions,  types  of  123-6 
Prove  11,  65,  66,  74,  75-7,  99,  112, 
137,  141,  143,  145, 169,  181 
Prudence,  168 
‘Maxim  of’  102-4 
Psychological  11,  130,  140,  148 
Hedonism  18,  68,  69,  70,  73 


Punishment  164 

retributive  or  vindictive  214,  215, 
216,  221 

Reason  143-4 
Representative  art  193 
Reward  174 

Right  18,  24-5,  105,  146,  180,  216, 
218,  223 

dist.  from  ‘ duty  ’ 148 
relation  to  expediency  167 
externally  176-7 
internally  179  n.  1 
Romantic  style  215-16 
Rousseau  42 

Sanctions  159,  164 
Secondary  qualities  206 
Self-evidence  143,  144,  148,  181 
Self-realisation  113,  114,  120,  188 
Self-sacrifice  170 
Sensation  134 
Sensationalist  130 
Sidgwick,  Henry  145 
value  of  beauty  81-4,  85-7 
on  Bentham  17-19 
rationality  of  Egoism  99-103 
‘ good  ’ unanalysable  17 
Hedonism  59,  63,  64,  81-7,  91-6, 
108-9 

‘ method  ’ of  Intuitionism  59,  92—4 
value  of  knowledge  82,  86 
neglects  principle  of  organic  wholes 
93 

pleasure  as  criterion  91-2,  94-5 
quality  of  pleasure  77,  81 
value  of  unconscious  81—4 
Sins  161 

Spencer,  Herbert  46,  48-58 
Spinoza  110,  113 
Spiritual,  value  of  205-6 
Summum  Bonum  183,  205 
Stoics  41,  110 
Synthetic  7,  58,  143 

Taste,  error  of  192-3,  211 
Taylor,  A.  E.  60 
Temperance  157,  168 
Theodicies  220 
Tragedy  219,  221 


232 


INDEX 


Truth 

relation  to  existence  111,  124-5 
cognition  130,  132-i,  136,  141, 
196 

knowledge  134,  194 
types  of  111-12,  124-5 
value  of  85-6,  193-200,  208,  210, 
211,  212 
Tyndall  40 

Ugly  208,  209-11,  214,  216-19,  221 
Ultimate  end  51,  83,  85,  96-7,  99-102, 
183,  189 
Unity  222 
organic,  see  ‘Organic 
Universal 
Good  99-102 

truths  21-3,  27,  57,  111,  126, 154-5, 
181 

Universalistio  Hedonism  103 
Useful  106,  146,  167 
Utilitarianism  63,  96,  99,  101-7,  109 
Utopias  183,  186 

Value 

intrinsic  17,  21,  25-30,  36,  147, 
173-7, 187, 189, 207,  214-16,  222-4 
as  means  21,  174,  195-6 
negative  216,  216 


Vice  171,  209,  211 
Virtue 

definition  of  171-3,  181,  223 
three  kinds  of  175 
mixed  221 
relation  to  ‘duty’  172 
value  of  83,  85,  86,  87,  173-80, 
181-2,  217-19,  221-2 
Volition 

supposed  coordination  with  cognition 
129-30,  133,  135-6,  141 
supposed  bearing  on  Ethics  130, 
136,  141 

Whole 

good  as  a 208,  214-16,  219,  221 
good  on  the  214-16,  219,  220,  ‘221 
organic,  see  ‘Organic’ 

Wickedness  220 
Will 

as  criterion  of  value  137-8 
relation  to  duty  160,  161,  180 
the  Good  174-5,  179  a.  2,  180 
supposed  analogy  to  cognition  129- 
30,  135-6 

supposed  bearing  on  Ethics  126-7, 
128-31,  13.5-9,  141 
Wrong  180,  218,  223 


I 


Hoort 


CZ 


